


Empty Graves

by ElZacharie, Praemonitorius



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Isekai, Love Triangles, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Relationships May Change, Self-Indulgent, for lack of a better word, modern to fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 43,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElZacharie/pseuds/ElZacharie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Praemonitorius/pseuds/Praemonitorius
Summary: Jane Moore is a writer. Whoever this Jaina Proudmoore person is, it certainly isn't her-- she just wants to go home.
Relationships: Arthas Menethil/Jaina Proudmoore, Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner, Jaina Proudmoore/Thrall, Kalecgos/Jaina Proudmoore
Comments: 139
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I was working for Bungie, I got into WoW hardcore, but dropped it for a bit. Recently, having absolutely no work and having had my birthday only a few weeks ago, I used birthday money to get another subscription. Then fell in love with the game all over again, especially Jaina. Last night, I got the idea of Jaina being a writer who was transported into her own world after going into a coma, and it haunted me into the day that I had to write it out. I doubt I'll be able to finish, but I'll get as far as I can.
> 
> I don't know a lot about the lore, but I'm learning what I can.
> 
> Edit: Just realized I called Anduin king when he's supposed to still be a prince. Woopsies. I promise I'll figure out what I'm doing.
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Jane - Jaina  
> Arthur - Arthas  
> Caitlyn - Calia  
> Miranda - Tyrande  
> Malachi - Malfurion  
> Garrett - Garrosh

Jane Moore was a writer. A fucking good one, if her publisher was to be believed. She'd won countless awards for her last series, and every talk show host, forum, and fan she knew talked about her was waiting with bated breath for her newest series. 

She would be too, if she could write the damn thing. 

It's been months since she's written a single word in her story. Every single story beat, every single character, everything she could think of, down to where the characters shit, has been thought of and written down, so why can't she write anything?

The thought continued to haunt her as she stared at the latest wedding dress she'd been stuffed into, a silly, frilly thing that Arthur would never be caught dead standing next to. She avoided looking at her face in the reflection— the bags under her eyes, the perpetual scowl, the lackluster and greasy blonde hair on her head only ramped up her anxiety about the wedding. 

Still, she allowed the saleswoman to usher her out of the dressing room and onto the stage it was propped on, forcing her to do a twirl for her bridesmaids, who squealed in delight just like they did for the other dresses, and mother, who only pursed her lips in displeasure as she looked her over. Her mother was the only one with a modicum of sense when it came to the wedding— if she hadn’t wanted back into Jane’s life, she wouldn’t be able to imagine what kind of dress she’d be wearing, much less how expensive it would be without her mother’s shrewd eye for bargains and smarts from budgeting.

“Are you sure you want that dress, darling?” she began as she always did when she disproved of what her friends had picked. “It has… _many_ bows on it. If I was to attend your wedding, all eyes would be on the dress wondering who tore it up for it to have so many in the first place.”

Caitlyn, Arthur’s sister and the chooser of dresses, made a distressed noise. “There’s not too many bows! It looks gorgeous on her! Right, Jane?”

Jane looked down at the dress, bundling a bow in her fist for a moment before letting it go. “It’s… a bit much. Can’t I just wear something simple?”

“If I let you do that, you’d wear a pantsuit!” Caitlyn protested.

“What’s wrong with a pantsuit?”

“It’s a wedding! You can’t go to your own wedding looking like an 80s businesswoman!”

“She’s got a point,” Miranda piped up between sips of her coffee. “When Malachi and I got married, even I knew it’d be weird to go in my scrubs, as much as I wanted to.”

Jane visibly deflated— they were right. Arthur was the one who wanted an extravagant wedding, one befitting of a CEO. The least she could do was to wear a dress nice enough for the cameras.

“Go ahead and try the next dress, my dear,” said her mother, giving her a gentle smile. “I picked it out myself, I think you’ll like it.”

“Thanks, mom,” she muttered, giving her mother a tired smile and turning back into the dressing room. The next dress she tried on without bothering to look at it, letting the saleswoman get it on her and compliment how it fit her exactly. 

Jane stepped out of the dressing room.

Everyone gasped.

And then the bomb went off.

Later news reports would detail how the bomb was set in the shop next door, where a sale was going on and many people were trying to get last minute gifts before the holidays began. The sole suspect was a disillusioned man named Garret Heffernan, who wanted to kill just to get his name in the paper.

The news reports would focus specifically on Jane Moore herself, despite plenty of others getting injured and killed in the blast, Caitlyn included. They would discuss how torn up her famous fiancé was, who broke down crying when discussing it in an interview. They would pan over shots of memorials in her honor, littered with flowers and bears dressed up as her characters. The forums would be filled with fans crying for justice, demanding the trial of Garret Heffernan end in a death penalty.

The funeral would be riddled with news reporters and fans trying to get a glimpse at her casket, despite her mother and fiancé’s wishes. Her mother would break down crying, despite her stony demeanor, begging her daughter to come back; she couldn’t lose another child, not after Derek. Why wasn’t she waking up? Why was she leaving her again?

The media would have a field day with the aftermath, until, finally, they got bored. Fans moved on to newer books, forgetting how they used to cry and scalp signed copies of her books. The contents of her apartment would be sold off, along with her laptop, just as she left it.

And Jane?

Jane would wake up.

Mouth filled with dust, crawling through rubble, ribs and legs broken, blood pouring from a wound in her head.

She would crawl towards the feet of another survivor, every breath torture, before she passed out from her injuries, screams ringing in her ears.

Later, should wake up in a soft bed, her body wrapped tight in bandages and blurry faces above her. Jane’s ears still rang from the explosion, but she could make out a single phrase before passing out once more:

“My liege! Lady Proudmoore is still alive!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 subscriptions and 12 kudos!!!!!!!!! Thank y'all so much!! Now to try and figure out where the fuck I'm going with this fic
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Thad - Thrall  
> Andy - Anduin  
> Wassim - Wrathion
> 
> Updated this chapter w a minor reveal and fixed Anduin's appearance  
> Fixed Anduin's age and appearance bc it was bothering me

Thad considered himself extremely lucky to have found such a nice, albeit a bit old, laptop for such a cheap price, along with an apartment so close to the arena. The landlady said it’d belonged to some famous author who died a year ago, and that the family was only just letting go of it, along with the rest of her estate, instead of just divvying it up amongst themselves. 

The day was spent mostly bringing up his belongings to his new place— he’d opted to do it alone, a move his aching muscles would soon regret. By the time he’d gotten the last box up, he wanted to just fall onto the ground and lay there until the sun came up, but there was a knock at the door as soon as the last box landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

Sighing over the fact he would not get any rest before his neighbors came to introduce themselves, Thad opened the door and found himself face to face with two young, teenage boys, each holding a poster and staring up at him with wide eyes.

The boys were like something out of a magazine— the boy on the left had pale white skin, bright blue eyes, and long, blonde hair in a ponytail framing his round face. His friend was much darker— Middle Eastern, if he had to guess— with black hair that was just as long, though his own face was much sharper. No doubt these two boys were the apple of many a young teen’s eye.

“ARE YOU THE GLADIATOR?” the blonde haired boy blurted out after a moment of silence. His friend quickly elbowed him in the side, but looked up at him just as expectantly.

“Um…” Thad chewed on the inside of his cheek— if he said no, the boys would certainly be disappointed, but, on the other hand, if he said yes, they’d likely bring all their friends around to show off, and he wouldn’t get any time to himself.

But they looked _so_ excited!

He sighed again, giving them a tired smile. “I assume you guys want some autographs?”

The boys gasped and shoved their posters at him, which he pressed against the door to sign. “Uh, who should I make these out to?”

“I’m Andy, this is Wassim. We live next door! Not. With each other. That’d be weird,” Andy quickly explained, a blush to his cheeks as he looked away.

“Andy got me into wrestling. Did you know your apartment is haunted?” Wassim asked matter-of-factly.

Thad blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Um... no? Did someone die here?”

“Wassim! Don’t scare him off!” Andy whispered to Wassim angrily.

“What? He has a right to know!” Wassim whispered back. “Is it because she was your—”

“Shh!” the boy hissed at him, before giving Thad a nervous smile. “He’s just joking, I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s alright. I was told the person who owned it before me died… they didn’t die here, did they?”

Andy looked down at the floor, obviously trying to keep his composure. “No. She died in that explosion last year. At the shopping center.”

_Oh._

He certainly remembered that— his childhood friend had been killed in that exact blast, one of many deaths, but he’d been out of town, on tour, when it happened. He hadn’t even been able to go to the funeral, though her brother and mother thanked him for flowers he’d sent in his place.

“Right. That one,” he shifted uncomfortably, noticing the look on Wassim’s face as he stared at his friend, as though he wished he could take away all the sorrow Andy was obviously trying to hide. “Say… How about you guys come in for a minute or two? If it’s okay with your parents, I could teach you a few moves.”

Immediately, the boys’ demeanor brightened at the suggestion, pushing past him into the apartment, chattering excitedly about the moves they wanted to learn and had seen on TV.

He chuckled softly and followed them inside, making sure to leave the door open just in case their parents got curious about where they were.

* * *

Jane stared up at the woman before her as she was prodded and manhandled, her eyes focusing on her beautiful, pale blue skin, glowing green eyes, and long ears. A young man was standing behind her, despite explicit instructions to give her room, wringing his hands together nervously. He looked shockingly like Andy, her neighbor and godson, put into the body of a 13-year-old model and was then stuffed into a prince’s outfit. 

"Well, Tyrande? Is she okay?" the strange Andy asked, much to the ire of the disgruntled alien before her.

"Anduin, if you do not be quiet, I will have to escort you out myself. But, if you must know, she is responsive, to a point. With her injuries, she is likely incredibly dazed, if she even remembers anything. Now, Jaina, if you can— ah!"

Before the alien could finish speaking, Jane reached up and grabbed one of her overly long eyebrows and tugged, trying to see if it were real. When they didn’t detach, she reached for her ears, but was immediately stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist.

“By Elune, you’re acting like a babe in her mother’s arms!” the woman growled, showing off a wicked pair of fangs. “If you’re aware enough to try and pull my brow off my face, you’re aware enough to answer my questions. Can you speak?”

Jane opened her mouth and let out a croaking noise. Immediately, a jug of water was pressed to her lips, and she drank greedily, as though she’d been starved of water for months. When the jug was stolen away, she hiccuped, then winced at the pain it caused in her chest.

“Y- yes… I can speak,” she croaked out, her own voice feeling strange and unused in her throat. “What… are you?”

The alien blinked. “This is Tyrande, Jaina,” adult-Andy gently supplied. “She’s a night elf. They’re a part of the Alliance, remember?”

Jane furrowed her brow, trying to figure out why that name sounded so familiar. And why was he calling her Jaina?

Before she could question this any further, the alien, Tyrande, shined some sort of light in her eyes, though from where, she couldn’t tell. “What is your name? What year is it? Who is the warchief of the Horde?”

Jane’s mind reeled at the questions. What was the Horde? What was the Alliance? Why were they calling her Jaina? Where in the hell was she? Why did her body hurt so badly?

“Um… my name is… Jane Moore,” she gasped out, “the year is… 2019… and… what’s the… Horde?”

If the look on Tyrande and adult-Andy’s faces were anything to go by, that answer was completely wrong. “It’s worse than I thought. You were right to retrieve me, Anduin. Make sure she stays in bed, and call upon the healers three times a day to check on her. The injuries she sustained in the blast will have lasting effects, if we’re not careful.”

With that, Tyrande stood and left the room with the grace of a queen, followed by a quartet of knights with long ears like her own sticking out of their helms. Andy— or Anduin, if Tyrande was to be believed, looked at her with hurt etched deep into his face. “You’re just playing a joke, aren’t you, Jaina?”

She turned to look at him, and a strand of white hair fell before her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kept rewriting this chapter, unable to figure out what i wanted to do with it. i finally caved and read up on some lore, which was incredibly helpful in figuring out where the Fuck i was in the timeline. also, thank you so much for reading! please leave comments if you liked it!
> 
> also, i finally caved and made it soulmates. you cant stop me. i hope.

An electric shock raced through Sylvanas’s spine, causing her shot to go wide and miss her target, an old doe, which darted off after the arrow struck the tree just beyond it. Cursing to herself, the ranger retrieved her arrow and looked towards the skyline. The same shock coursed down her spine once more, leaving her tingling.

Magic.

Magic that she hadn’t felt since her death, since her connection to the Sunwell had been severed.

_ Her mate had been chosen. _

The thought came unbidden, making the Banshee Queen sneer. She’d never had a mate, not even in life; her father once said she was too stubborn for one. It was a fact that she’d come to wear with pride— while the other girls and her sisters chittered on about their mates, what they would be like, what they would look like, and so on, she was free to take to bed any woman who met her fancy without guilt. 

_ Her mate needed her. _

Sylvanas sneered even harder, turning her back to the sky and focusing on the doe’s tracks. She was starving, not having fed in nearly a month, longer than she’d let herself go since she stalked the halls of the Icecrown Citadel. 

_ Don’t think of him and his citadel. Think of her. Think of your mate. _

It seemed the doe was heading southward, towards one of her traps, if she was lucky enough. Knocking another arrow, she followed the tracks, ignoring the intruding, and frustrating, thoughts. From a distance, she heard the snap of twigs— the doe, no doubt. Crouching, she darted forward, hoping to catch her quarry before anything else did.

_ Your mate would look ravishing wrapped in a deer skin pelt, wearing nothing else. _

The tracks were becoming clearer, sharper, as her hunger propelled forward. The doe knew it was being hunted, making mistakes; it was going in the direction of her trap. Right where she wanted it to go.

_ You want to hunt her, to follow her heavy footsteps through the trees, hear her heavy breathing as she runs, to fuck her against the trees when you finally— _

“SHUT UP!” she screamed, dropping her bow and covering her ears.

Thump.

Sylvanas looked up, shocked to find her trap in front of her. The doe had fallen into the pit she’d laid out, its legs broken, but still breathing. Good; she would have a better meal if its soul was still on this plane. Hopping down into the pit, she spent no time inspecting it for any outward signs of disease— if she got sick, she would tough it out; if she couldn’t, the apothecaries would help her.

Sharp fangs, sharper than any living sin’dorei, sunk down into the creature’s neck, mouth closed around the entry point to prevent any blood from spilling. A small wheeze of pain escaped it, but she paid it no mind. Its suffering would end soon, unlike hers.

First Sylvanas would suck out the blood— always greedy for an appetizer, she was— before moving onto the soul. It was always a strange sensation to feel the soul attempt to tug itself away from her, to enter the realms beyond where it belonged, before giving in and becoming one with her. The soul would prance about, or do whatever deer did, for a day or so, before settling down.

_ Take the meat to your mate. She could use the sustenance herself. _

Throwing the carcass over her shoulder, the Banshee Queen made her way back to the Undercity, disturbed and pensive.

* * *

“Get off of me!” Jane screamed, throwing off the blonde’s hand. Something was roiling in her chest, growing bigger and bigger, desperate to get out.

“Auntie, please—!”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”  _ Growing bigger and bigger and bigger and—  _ “You’re not Andy!”

“But I am! Don’t you recognize me?!” he pleaded. “Nothing’s changed!”

_ Nothing’s changed. _ That pissed of her off big time. Everything had changed— who knew how long she’d been stuck in a coma? How long had fucking  _ aliens _ been on the planet, much less trusted enough to become doctors? And what was up with the weird priest outfit he was wearing?

From the doors of her strange little room— how had she not noticed she wasn’t in a proper hospital? Why were the walls made of wood, instead of bricks? — several people wielding staffs burst in, along with the alien from before, light shining from her palm.

“Prince Anduin! Get away from her, she’s unstable!”

Around her, objects in the room began levitating, shaking and being thrown at the walls as though it were an angry poltergeist in a cliché movie causing it. A cold wind whipped through the room, lifting Jane’s hair as she simply sat in bed, unable to do anything to cry. 

“I just want to go home,” she managed to sob out, “I just want Arthur.”

The fake-Andy’s hand hovered just above her shoulder. “Auntie… Arthas is dead.”

It wasn’t the same name, she knew that. But deep down, she felt like she knew this Arthas. She loved Arthas, just like she’d loved Arthur, if not more. Visions of a soft face, of Arthur’s face, flashed before her eyes. It wasn’t exactly like him— there was no mole just below his eye, and Arthur would never let his hair grow so long— but the feeling was still the same. Her fiancé was dead.

A sob ripped out of her chest, resulting in the jug she had drunk from being thrown against the wall, the water freezing upon contact with the air. When Andy— no, his name was Anduin now; she needed to respect that— when Anduin’s hand rested on her shoulder, she felt the thing in her chest unravel, leaving nothing but sorrow in its wake.

She leaned into him, finding comfort in his warm embrace, until, finally, she sobbed herself into unconsciousness.

“That was dangerous,” Tyrande muttered as she approached. “She could have easily killed you. We still don’t know what the mana bomb could have done to her.”

Anduin sighed, brushing the single lock of blonde hair out of her face. “She’s still my auntie. Nothing about that is going to change, even if she can’t remember.”

The night elf sighed, eyes shutting for just a moment. “I must return to my people. I will have some of my healers come to check on her later. I will pray to Elune that she recovers her memory quickly.”

With that, Tyrande turned on her heel exited the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kalecgos/Jaina may happen depending on how yall feel about his characterization and how I feel he fits in the story. Let me know what you think in the comments, they keep me going!

Kalec could hear Jaina’s screaming from across the country-home-turned-hospital, feel the magic that exploded out of her in waves even from here. The blue dragon wanted nothing more than to go to her, to comfort her and tell her it wasn’t her fault Theramore was destroyed. That they were the only survivors of the explosion. That Kinndy and Pained were dead.

That he’d failed in his promise to protect her.

“If you keep frowning like that, milord, your face is gonna be stuck like that, that’s what me mother used to tell me,” the dwarven priestess hovering over him said with a nod, as though he were a small child and not the Aspect of Magic. “Now, sit up, I’ve gotta change your bandages.”

With a grimace, Kalec sat up, grunting as he did so. Though he was far away from the city itself at the time, the explosion had still managed to knock him out of the sky and to the ground. It was a miracle he was able to even stand after his fall, much less carry Jaina to safety in his humanoid form.

_ Crash! _

Kalec’s frown deepened. “How’s Jaina doing?”

The priestess was more than happy to gossip. “Oh, she’s in a right tizzy, she is! Has been since she woke up, if the guards outside her door are to believed— I believe Malcolm, certainly, but not Marion, she’s always makin’ up stuff. Anyways, apparently she don’t remember a thing! When she was asleep, she kept callin’ out the name of some man called Arthur— I think Marion meant Arthas,” she adds with a whisper, as though the name itself were cursed. 

“She’s probably been told about her lil’ colony by now, poor thing. The night elves were first on the scene— I came here by airship just yesterday, I did, along with the prince. What a lovely young man; you would never know the boy was only 14 when you looked at him! Anyways, I met a night elf who was helping look for survivors, and said he saw a woman who looked like a statue! He thought he could return her to her original form, but when he touched her, poof! She  _ turned into dust!” _

The dwarf continued prattling on even after his bandages were changed, finding all sorts of excuses to keep on talking. He was thankful, at least, to know what was happening with the outside world, to know that the Alliance was on their side, at the very least.

“My good woman, would you be willing to get me a pen and some paper? I need to write some letters of the utmost importance,” he spoke up after a moment off thought, cutting the dwarf off mid-sentence. 

“Oh! Of course, milord, right away!” The dwarf hustled off, ordering a guard in the hallway to bring him what he wanted, on the double. A guard arrived only a minute later, a night elf, holding a pen and some paper, along with a piece of wood to write on. He thanked the man, then quickly set about writing his letters.

* * *

“I know you’re awake, auntie.”

“Leave me alone,” Jane grumbled, turning her head to the side, “I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead, auntie.”

Every day, Anduin came to check on her, even though she knew he had other, more important things to do, if the weird knight people and anachronistic nurses' words were anything to go by. Still, the teenager insisted that he be there for her, even having a desk moved into her room so that he could attend to letters brought from home. Sometimes, he’d read them aloud when he knew she was pretending to sleep, hoping to get a conversation out of her. It only made her more confused listening to him, reminding her that she’d been transported into a world that was nothing like the one remembered.

“Alexstrazsa and the other aspects should be arriving today, along with the Lord Admiral, if the tides are willing,” Anduin commented, no doubt peering at her over those silly little reading glasses he wore. “They’re planning on salvaging what they can from the explosion, and gathering any ashes of anyone who might still be intact to send home to their families.”

“I have no idea who those people are,” Jane grumbled, exhaustion clear in her voice. Whatever that tantrum she had a few days prior had drained her of any energy she’d have, leaving her unable to move anything below her neck, but able to feel all the pain radiating throughout her. “I just wanna go home.”

“Theramore is gone, auntie.” There was that sickly sweet voice again, the one Anduin only used when he thought she was going insane and needed to be reminded of that. “We’re taking you to Dalaran in the meantime, remember?”

“I don’t know where that is! I don’t understand what you’re saying!” she sobbed, wishing she could move her arms to smother herself with a pillow. 

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and light and warmth emanated throughout her body, easing her pain. Jane turned and scowled at Anduin, but the look of pity did not leave his face. “I can’t possibly know what you’re going through right now, but I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Whatever this kid had gone through, it had made him far older than he should’ve been. The scowl on her own face softened, tears welling up in her eyes at his kind words. Here she was, pushing away the only person who was trying to understand what she was going through, like a total asshole.

“Oh auntie, don’t cry!” Anduin immediately wiped away the tears from her face as they began to pour down. “I know it’s hard, but you’re strong!”

“I just want my mother, Andy… I want my mom… I want Arthur…”

The boy’s face twisted into that of pain just as a bugle sounded out. “Announcing the arrival of Lady Katherine Proudmoore, first of her name, Ruler of House Proudmoore, Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras.”

A sad smile twisted Anduin’s face. “Speak of the devil.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a secret late night chapter tell your friends leave comments  
> this one definitely hurt my heart to write
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Arthur - Arthas  
> Sylvia - Sylvanas

“You shouldn’t be drinking during the day, Artie. It’s bad for your health.” 

Arthur flinched at the lights being turned on as a salad container was plopped in front of him, fork and knife on top. He didn’t need to raise his head to know that Sylvia, his VP, had barged her way into the room, as she was wont to do. 

“Neither should you, hypocrite,” came his response at the sound of glass tinking together.

“I’m young and rebellious; it’s part of my charm.” She fell into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, resting her feet on the wood. “Now eat.”

“You’re the same age as I am,” he grunted, ripping open the tupperware and stabbing into the leafy greens as though they had done him wrong, “so why can’t I be rebellious too?”

“Because I’m not sulking while I do it, and I do it in moderation.” 

Arthur looked up at that, brow raised high. “I’ve seen you at happy hour. You do not ‘drink in moderation’.”

Sylvia snorted. “You got me there!” Then, her expression turned serious; he hated when she got serious. “But seriously, Artie… it’s been an entire year. You can’t show up to her memorial wasted. You have to make a speech.”

Arthur sinked further into his seat; he’d forgotten about the memorial.

The memorial her mother had set on their wedding day.

_I want Arthur…_

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, thumping his head against the desk to get her voice out of his head.

“Did you take your meds today, Arthur?” Ugh, she only used his full name when she was really serious. “You’re supposed to take them everyday, not just when you feel like it—”

“I took the goddamn medicine!” he snapped, slamming his fists on the desk. “Stop fucking babying me!”

The room is silent except for the ticking of the clock.

Sylvia is as stubborn as a mule; either he tells her what’s really going on, or she spends the rest of the day being passive aggressive until he finally breaks. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation for him. 

He fumes for a moment, breathing through his nose to calm himself down, before slumping back into his chair, exhaustion crashing over him. “I’m hearing her voice again.”

She doesn’t look at him with pity, just waits for him to continue. He doesn’t think he could handle the pity.

“She’s… calling out for me. Wanting to know where I am. It’s not like the other voices. She’s distressed, not telling me I should die so I can be with her.”

He can’t help but cry as he continues. Sylvia makes no move to comfort him, brow furrowed.

He shouldn’t be telling her this— she’s not his therapist— but it comes tumbling out before he can stop himself. 

“Sometimes, when I sleep, I see her. I see… a version of her. Stumbling around, confused, begging for me to come help her. She doesn’t know where she is. She just wants to go home, but she can’t, Sylvia… She can’t move on.”

The only thing that prepares him for the hand on his shoulder is the creak of a chair and her footsteps as she makes her way around the table. He still tenses at her touch, of course, but doesn’t push her away.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. You don’t have to go to the memorial if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’ll go,” he sniffled, wiping his eyes and sitting up. “I’ll go. It’s the least I can do.”

* * *

“You can’t go in there!” someone cried as a number of footsteps approached her door. Anduin at least made an attempt to shield her from whomever would be barging in, arms crossed and standing as menacingly as a boy his age could. 

“Forgive me, your highness, but I must demand that you move. Jaina is a war criminal, and I will not be leaving without her,” a woman’s sharp voice demanded, one almost exactly like her mother’s when she was disappointed, not upset. “If I have to raze this entire village to the ground to do so, I will.”

“She’s still healing, Lady Proudmoore,” Anduin argued, standing just a little straighter in the doorway. “She can’t even move, much less be moved.”

“Then the healers will care for her before her trial.”

“I’m _ordering_ you to stand down!”

“And _I’m_ ordering you to move!” the woman snapped. “I would at least look my daughter in the eye; you can grant a mother that much, can’t you?”

Anduin looked over his shoulder and caught Jane’s eye, unsure of whether to grant her request or not. Jane sighed and nodded, so he stepped to the side, arms still crossed as he glared at the woman.

It was almost a carbon copy of her mother, though the frown lines in her face were deeper, as well as the bags under her eyes. She was sharpened by far more loss, by duty, though how Jane could tell, she wasn’t sure. The woman before her was dressed like an old admiral out of one of her books— yet she looked incredibly regal as she looked down on Jane, her frown turning into a look of confusion.

“This… this is not my daughter.”

“What?” Anduin looked just as confused, if not more. “Is it… the hair…?”

“No…” The woman’s brow furrowed. “I… don’t know why, but there’s something about her. This isn’t my daughter.”

The guards that had rushed in after the woman shuffled in place, glancing at each other in confusion as well.

Carefully, as though the act might end her, the admiral sat at the edge of her bed before checking the bedside table. From it, she pulled out a beautiful silver necklace, at the end of which sat an anchor, staring forlornly at it for a moment before holding it out to her.

“Tell me, what does this mean to you?”

Jane stared at it, despite her best attempts not to. Something about it… made her head hurt. Like she should recognize it. Like it was important to her.

“Auntie? Are you alright?” Anduin’s voice was far away, as though filtered through many layers of cloth.

Then, the world went black.

* * *

If Anduin had not seen it for himself, he wouldn’t believe it. 

Jaina’s eyes darted about, not seeing anything, as though she were suddenly a wild animal being chased by a predator, and blood and tears mixed together as they spilled down her cheeks. The air turned ice cold, just like when she had unleashed her powers only a few days earlier. The guards cried out in fear, immediately drawing their blades, and Anduin made to leap forward, the Light at his fingertips, but Lady Proudmoore stopped them with the wave of her hand.

“Arthas?” Jaina sobbed, her distant voice echoing in itself. “Arthas, where are you? It’s so dark!”

“Who is this? Who inhabits this body?” Katherine demanded, holding the necklace closer.

“Mama, is that you? Mama, I can’t see you! Where are you?!”

One of the guards dropped to their knees, gasping out a prayer to the Light.

“Speak plainly, spirit!” Katherine cried, practically shoving the necklace into her face. “Who inhabits this body?!”

The blood began to pool on the pillows under Jaina’s head. She furrowed her brow, as though finally hearing an answer to her question. “There was an explosion… Rhonin sacrificed himself to save me, but I tried to go back for him! I couldn’t let him die in my place! But then I saw someone… someone who looked just like me. And she was in pain. I think she was dying. I wanted to help her… and I did.”

The spirit’s voice was calmer now, as though recounting what it saw was helping it to understand what was going on. Anduin wished he had that clarity right now.

“But I’m lost now, mama. I don’t know where I am. I just wanna go home.”

“Light take you, my child. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Katherine gasped out, turning to Anduin with tears in her eyes. “Please. Put her out of her misery.”

The young prince nodded, reaching out a hand towards Jaina’s body. Before he could touch her and fill her with Light, however, the distant eyes locked onto him, as if seeing for the first time. His hand faltered just long enough to allow the spirit to leave the body, returning from where it came, and the eyes rolled back into the body’s head as it went unconscious once more.

“Well then.” The Lord Admiral stood, staring down at Jaina’s body with no emotion on her face. “I will remain here for the time being. What did you plan on doing with her?”

Anduin swallowed the lump in his throat. “We meant to take her to Dalaran to be inspected, and to hopefully bring her memories back.”

“Then I will accompany you on this trip. Please, continue attending to my daughter as you have been. I… need to make arrangements for the night.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Praemonitorius and fgar for their theories! They were a big inspiration :3
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Thad - Thrall  
> Sylvia - Sylvanas

“Your laptop is… haunted?”

Thad didn’t expect Tanner to believe him— he hardly believed himself. That didn’t stop the document on his screen from opening on its own, typing out a name over and over again.

_ ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR ARTHUR _

“Listen man, I know I sound crazy, but I’m being serious. The moment I opened it to reset it, it unlocked itself and opened a Word doc and just… started typing. It doesn’t respond to any input.” To prove his point, Thad pounded on a random key loud enough for Tanner to hear. 

“Are you sure you’re not seeing things? Maybe the memorial has got you stressed?”

“I’m not seeing things! This laptop is haunted!”

Tanner sighed into his phone. “Just… bring it over after the memorial, alright? I’ll check it out.”

He frowned, but agreed to do so and said goodbye, hanging up before Tanner could as well. He shut the laptop, shuddering as it continued to glow, no doubt still typing. It didn’t turn off no matter what he did, even leaving it off the charger, so it was better to just throw it in the backseat of his car and ignore it for now.

Things were in full swing by the time he’d got to the venue, full of people who’d actually known Jane personally, those who’d only known her enough in passing and were hoping to rub shoulders with her family and publishing company, and reporters. Not too many— Jane’s death was old news by now, but she was still beloved enough to earn an article or two.

He ignored them and their shouts for a word, just a word, sir, and made his way to where Katherine was standing, wearing the same outfit she had for the funeral, immediately wrapping the older woman in a hug.

“Oh! Thad! I didn’t think you’d make it,” came her fragile voice, muffled by his pecs. “Thank you for coming…”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Mrs. Moore.” 

He released her after a moment to find her crying, makeup running. She dabbed at it with a stained tissue. “I’m so sorry, it’s been an entire year and I’m still a mess—”

“Don’t apologize. I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now.”

Katherine took a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you so much for coming, Thaddeus... The flowers you sent were lovely, by the way.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” she immediately shot back, “We rushed the funeral. You can’t be blamed for something we did.”

Thad nodded, giving Katherine one last hug before entering the venue with her, arm around her shoulders.

* * *

The wine flowed freely, thankfully— Sylvia wouldn’t have been able to make it through this sober, not with how Arthur was near tears and prepared to drink every bottle in the venue every time someone so much as mentioned Jane’s name. She was expected to baby the full-grown man, when all she wanted to do was cry over her best friend.

No, that wasn’t true.

Jane wasn’t just her best friend; she was her first love.

Manicured fingers gripped the champagne flute hard enough to crack the glass, if she so willed it. A rage boiled deep inside her— rage at Arthur, for stealing her away long before they’d even met, rage at Garret Heffernan, for taking her away from her. Rage at Jane, for dying before she could get one last kiss.

Sylvia drained the glass before she could go deeper into the rabbit hole, immediately grabbing two more from a passing waiter and finishing off the second.

Soon enough, the crowd would be herded into their seats, family and close friends at the front, reporters at the far back. They would all be forced to watch a documentary about Jane’s life and career, interspersed with pictures, home videos, and old interviews. Then, they would all cry and hold each other before going home themselves, forgetting all about her best friend.

Another glass down.

“You’re going through those rather quickly,” a familiar voice said from behind her. She whirled, ready to tear into whoever had said that, only to come face to face with a pair of massive pecs as they swallowed her into a hug.

“Thad?” she asked, voice muffled by his muscles. “Is that you?”

“The one and only,” Thad chuckled, letting her go after a beat.

“You were always too much of a hugger,” she scowled, brushing off her arms.

“And you were always too much of a bitch.”

It was easy to fall into old banter with him, she thought. Silence fell between them, and she did her best not to think of how Jane would have chided them to be nice to each other, like she did when they were children. 

“So…” Thad rubbed his neck, unable to look at her. “How are you?”

“How do you think I am?”

“Drunk?”

“Not drunk enough.”

“Maybe after this we can get a drink, like old times?”

“We’re not underaged kids anymore. My breasts aren’t as perky as they once were, either. Can’t trick any clerks into thinking I’m 21 with these babies.”

Thad laughed at that, bringing a smile to Sylvia’s face in turn. “I think we’d have a better chance now than before. Besides, what’s one last drinking contest?”

“Oh, you think because you’re so big and strong now that you can beat me? I’ll have you know I can still outdrink you any day.”

“Tough words for a little lady!” Thad crowed, slamming a hand down on her shoulder hard enough to make her bend a bit. “You’ll be eating those words later.”

Sylvia grinned, opening her mouth to say something just as the doors slammed open, a cold breeze rushing in after them. All the heads in the room turned towards the entrance, gasping at the sight before them.

“Excuse me…” Jane coughed up a bit of dirt onto her rotten black dress, clearing her throat. “I was wondering if anyone could perhaps tell me where I am, and why I was buried?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another midnight update because apparently I can't fucking control myself. Comments keep me going!

It would take two weeks before Jaina— or Jane, as he was told to call her— was well enough to move her body on her own, but that didn’t stop Chromie from bothering her to no end. Kalec tried to warn the bronze dragon beforehand not to stress the human out; she was in no state to handle the dragon’s natterings, especially after her possession.

That did nothing to stop Chromie, of course.

She came with the other Aspects in Nozdormu’s stead, notebook and quill in hand, vibrating like a child at the faire. Alexstrasza’s clawed hand remained on her gnomish head, keeping her from running off to find Jane’s room, though that certainly didn’t keep her eyes from being glued to the door. Once Alexstrasza released her, though, there was no stopping her— she darted straight into the room, Kalec and the other aspects right behind her.

“Who are you in your timeline?” Chromie began immediately, jumping onto Jane’s lap and pulling down the book she’d been reading to get her attention. “Do you have widespread electricity? Did the Old Gods get launched into space? Are the Horde and Alliance at peace in your time? Have you ever been to Draenor? Are there any dragons still? Who are the aspects in your timeline? Have you ever met me?”

Alexstrasza scooped up the gnome and set her back on the ground, to which she poked her nose over the edge of the bed, standing on the tips of her toes to inspect Jane.

“I’m dreadfully sorry for Chronormu; she tends to get a bit… excited,” Alexstrasza explained, glancing down at the gnome in question. “I’m Alexstrasza, that’s Ysera, and this is Kalecgos; you knew him quite… intimately in this life.”

The woman in Jaina’s body blinked up at him, pushing silver hair behind her ear. She was as radiant as ever, but there was no recognition in her eyes when she looked at him. “It’s nice to meet you all… You’re the dragons who control the aspects, right? This book says so,” she added, holding up the book she had been reading. “Anduin told me you would be arriving soon.”

Alexstrasza preened at that. “Yes, that would be us. I’m sorry it took so long for us to come and greet you personally; we were exhausted after our flight, and it was quite late when we arrived. We did not wish to disturb your sleep.”

“Thank you for that. I only just regained movement in my upper body this morning. My…” she paused, pursing her lips as she searched for the right thing to say, “Lady Proudmoore left quite a few books for me this morning, so I could become more familiar with the world I’m in now.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Until we figure out how to return you to your original timeline, and Lady Jaina to ours, you’ll likely be expected to continue your other half’s duties to the common people. We will spread the rumor that the explosion left you with severe amnesia that has left you unable to remember who you even were. You will need to learn to respond to Jaina Proudmoore as well; the name Jane will… WRATHION! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Alexstrasza roared, scales rippling to the surface under her glamor.

The three dragons and Jane whipped their heads to the window in the room, where Kalec just barely saw the top of a cloth head and heard a little, “eep!” 

“Always a troublemaker, that whelp,” Ysera sighed, shaking her head, watching Alexstrasza stomp out after the boy. 

“I don’t know how she deals with him!” Chromie chimed in. “Rhea really picked the most rotten whelp of the bunch, didn’t she?”

“Quiet, both of you,” said Kalec. “He’s the last hope of the black dragonflight. One day, he’ll be standing among us as an equal.”

Chromie made a face, but remained quiet on the subject as she climbed back onto the bed.

“I’m… still very confused,” Jane admitted after listening to Alexstrasza and Wrathion yelling at each other outside of the window, voices muffled and overlapping. “Why is she so angry?”

Ysrea sighed again, looking out the window forlornly. “It’s… quite a story. But to put it into simpler words, the Old Gods corrupted the black dragons, his father and mother among them. Rheastrasza, a member of Alexstrasza’s flight, was killed after she purified his egg of corruption and sent it away. Now, he is Alexstrasza’s ward, but she still worries that he may be hunted by forces beyond our knowledge.”

“That’s sad…”

“It would be, if he wasn’t so insufferable about it. He’s the black sheep of the flight, pun not intended,” Chomie said, swinging her feet at the edge of the bed. “Doesn’t have any friends and keeps talking about how someday he’ll resurrect his flight all on his own and that he’ll help shape the future of Azeroth.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes at that. “He also claims to see the future.”

Kalec opened his mouth to chide them again, only to be cut off by a litany of shouts from the outside as Alexstrasza dragged the whelp inside by the ear. They entered the room together, Wrathion desperately tugging at Alexstrasza’s wrist to get her to let go of his pointed ear, glowing red eyes welling with tears. “I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry is not enough, Wrathion!” the red dragon snarled, tugging him closer to her side. “I don’t know how you found this place, but it was idiotic and reckless of you to leave, much less to leave without bodyguards from the flight! I’d at least be a little less angry if you’d had that much sense!”

“No one would believe me!” the whelp cried, finally escaping her hold and and taking a step away from her. Tears poured down his cheeks and his voice cracked as he screamed at the elder dragon. “Not even you! I told you this would happen, and you said it was stupid!”

“I said nothing of the sort—!”

“I told you that she would come here! I told you that she’s important! And you didn’t believe me, and now Kalecgos is hurt! If you’d believed me in the first place, the Focusing Iris would have never been stolen, and Jaina Proudmoore would still be alive!”

The room went silent. Jane stared at the whelp, mouth agape, but said nothing. 

“We don’t know if she’s truly dead or not, Wrathion— don’t fill Jane’s head with such things,” Alexstrasza whispered, words full of barely contained fury. 

“I’ve seen her grave,” Wrathion countered, narrowing his eyes. “They buried her, in her time. There’s no sending her back. She’s stuck here.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both sylvia and sylvanas are trans but idk how to have it come out that sylvia is trans yet. also anduin and andy are trans, but i haven't figured out how to put that in the story either. 
> 
> this is a very tired chapter and i almost couldnt get it out, but i had to write horny sylvanas. ill reveal why shes so horny next chapter.
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Sylvia - Sylvanas  
> Malachi - Malfurion  
> Miranda - Tyrande  
> Tanner - Tandred  
> Arthur - Arthas  
> Vernon - Varian

The media was having a goddamn field day with the supposed “resurrection” of Jane Moore. Many blamed the family for her disappearance, saying that they’d planned the explosion to kidnap her and then buried her after they didn’t get what they wanted. Others claimed she was kidnapped by Garret Heffernan’s alleged accomplices, then buried. Plenty of Christians believed that she’d been resurrected by Jesus Christ. 

Plenty of theories, but none explained how Malachi had prepped the broken, mangled body of Jane Moore for the funeral. None explained how Sylvia watched the life drain from her eyes, the only woman she ever loved choking on her own blood.

According to the blood tests and fingerprints, the body was most certainly Jane’s, but the mind… It belonged to “Lady” Jaina Proudmoore, the woman insisted. She was nobility, she said. She didn’t belong here, she said.

Damn right she didn’t, Sylvia thought. She belonged in the grave, back where they left her.

The hospital took her in for a short time, but they couldn’t keep her forever— according to Miranda, the doctors thought she had some sort of personality disorder from her trauma, but she was perfectly capable of moving about and functioning on her own. Except for the part where she literally thought she was the protagonist of a shitty fantasy novel.

Katherine was a mess, Tanner had to have all hands on deck to care for her before she had a mental breakdown, and Arthur had sunk deeper into the bottle. Thad had moved into her old apartment with no space for her, much less time to care for the woman. Vernon had a kid to care for and a PTA to run. Everyone else was too scared of her to get close.

Which was how Sylvia ended up with the body of her best friend inside her apartment.

“Well… Welcome home, I guess,” she said, throwing up her arms in a half-hearted gesture. 

For what it was worth, Jaina seemed as awestruck by her fancy apartment as she had been by everything she’d passed. It really sold the idea that she thought she was from another universe. Not that Sylvia believed it— it was too insane to be true, right?

“It’s so… chrome!” Jaina cried as she stepped inside, clutching at the scrubs she’d been given to replace the rotten dress she’d been buried in. “If only Gelbin were here to see this, he’d have a conniption!”

“Gelbin?” Sylvia asked as she kicked off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen to prepare some wine for the both of them.

“High Tinker of the gnomes,” she stated, as though that explained everything. “In my time at least. I doubt he’s still alive.”

“Riiiight…” She took a swig directly from the bottle before putting it back. “Wine?”

“Oh, that’d be lovely, thank you.” Jaina strode into the kitchen and took the glass, eyes still drinking everything in. “Your apartment is very lovely.”

“Thanks. Until we figure out what to do with you, it’s our apartment now.”

“Right. What to do with me,” she repeated. “You don’t happen to have any food, do you?”

“Uh… I usually order take out. I’m not one for cooking, sorry.”

“That’s perfectly fine… I may have enough mana to…” Jaina furrowed her brow and, with a few waves of her hand, a pair of glazed buns appeared on the counter on a cute little plate. “There!”

The glass slipped from Sylvia’s fingers, spilling glass and wine all over her feet.

“I don’t think I have the mana to clean all that up…” Jaina murmured, looking down at the mess,

* * *

The thoughts wouldn’t stop. In fact, Sylvanas was pretty sure they’d gotten even worse, along with the unusual sweating and random hard-ons she’d get. It got worse at certain times of the day, too; usually when she was trying to read reports from her rangers or attending to the grievances of her people. In the few times she’d fallen asleep, she had a dream of a human woman with white hair, her name on her lips as she ran towards her, but never finding herself within reach. When the woman turned, she’d gasp awake before seeing her face, covered in sweat and hard as a rock in her tight leather pants.

It was starting to get pretty annoying, to say the least.

With the Horde celebrating the destruction of Theramore, it went unnoticed when Sylvanas decided to send out scouts to find the woman, wherever she may be, even if it meant going into enemy territory. She sent two rangers into the vicinity of the ruins of Theramore, where Alliance and Kul'Tirans had set up camp on the nearby shores of the island. When their reports mentioned the Aspects had landed on the shore, she knew she had to see it for herself.

Woman or not, if the Aspects were interested in Theramore, that meant something big was happening. Something that would affect all of them.

It was easy enough to obtain a portal to Orgrimmar, but, to keep a low profile, she had to disguise herself as another dark ranger and head off from there by foot. She had only one meal on the way there, a starving rabbit, to take the edge off somewhat. Other than that, she continued on without stopping until she reached a small night elf port in the cover of night.

_She’s here._

Guards littered the little village, made up of all sorts of Alliance races, along with a few dragons under glamour. Most were asleep by now, but a few were taking a late watch or playing games and drinking. The majority of them, however, were situated near a single house with one illuminated window. 

_In there. She’s waiting for you._ Her mouth salivated at the thought.

It was simple enough to dispatch the guards near the door; a rock thrown at one of their heads drew them towards her, allowing her to silently choke him out, and the other one would get curious enough to approach after a minute and allow her to knock him unconscious. The door itself was unlocked, thankfully, so there was no need to waste her time on picking it or finding another entrance. The house was empty, with two bedrooms across from each other.

She could smell her scent from here. Like saltwater and magic. A disgusting combination to anyone but her.

Sylvanas opened the door as quietly as possible, her mind not registering the push of wards against her as she did, alerting someone of her presence. Whoever was in the bed had fallen asleep with a book over her face— as cute as she found it, it was a little annoying that she would have to remove it to see who she was. 

Outside, there was a commotion, likely from someone finding the bodies— she would have to find a way to hide her presence. But not right now.

Now, she had to unveil her mate.

White hair splayed out across the pillow, with a single blonde streak running through it, just like in her dreams. The body was that of a woman who did not eat as much as she should— something she would rectify with her superior hunting skills— but still maintained an hourglass figure. No doubt she was a noblewoman, her body unhardened by the toil of farming or otherwise.

With a shaking hand, she pulled the book away from her mate’s face, and was greeted by two sleepy, bright blue eyes blinking up at her.

“Proudmoore?” was the only thing she could get out before the Light burst through her body, her vision fading to black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost didnt get this one out tonight mates. it did not want to get written, but pumpkin pie forced my muse to work
> 
> i call this work "i pretend to give all the ships equal time but the sylvaina gremlin that lives rent free in my brain took over"
> 
> In the chapter:  
> Thad - Thrall  
> Tanner - Tandred  
> Kaleb - Kalec

“Tanner said your computer is… haunted?”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“After what happened the other day? I’m not sure.” Kaleb rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the computer on Thad’s desk. “That stuff with Jane… I’m willing to believe anything right about now.”

“So you’ll take a look at it?” Thad brightened visibly, making Kaleb sigh.

“I’m an IT guy, not a fuckin’ priest,” Kaleb warned him, making his way into Thad’s chair. “Whatever is goin’ on, it’s probably gonna result in you having to go find one or get another computer.”

Thad hovered behind him, wringing one of his large braids in his hands. “I’m not gonna be one of those weirdos who asks a priest to exorcise their shit. Just… look at it.”

Kaleb rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Where’s the charger?”

“It doesn’t need one.”

The other man looked over his shoulder at that, brow raised.

“I’m serious. Open the computer.”

The document on the computer was still open, just like he had left it, with a new string of words filling the screen.

_ WHO IS SYLVANAS WHY WOULD SHE WANT TO KILL ME WHY DOES SHE SMELL LIKE THAT ARE THEY GONNA KILL HER OH GOD I’M GONNA BE SICK _

“What the fuck?” Kaleb whispered.

“I told you, it’s fucking haunted!” Thad cried, backing away a few steps as he pointed at the screen accusingly. “I never should’ve bought the goddamn thing!”

“It- it could be fake!” Kaleb tried to reason, though Thad could see the distress growing on his face. “Where did you even get this from? Who does it even belong to?”

“I don’t know! I bought it off an estate sale site!”

“Wait… the cursor is still responsive. Lemme see if I can’t get it to open the user panel…” with shaky hands, Kaleb managed to open the settings window, the document still writing underneath it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Thad whispered, jaw dropping.

The laptop belonged to none other than Jane Moore. Because why wouldn’t it be, Thad thought to himself.

* * *

Jane and Anduin stared down at the intruder’s slightly smoking body in shock, light slowly fading from the young prince’s fingertips. The intruder was still breathing— and thank goodness for that; Jane didn’t think she could handle seeing someone die right in front of her.

“Are— are you okay, auntie?!” Anduin gasped out, a slight sheen to his brow. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?!”

“No,” she croaked, throat suddenly dry. All she could remember were the glowing red eyes looming above her, taking in her face as if she were a painting on a wall. And that  _ smell _ , the smell that filled her nostrils even more now that she was awake. “Do you… do you smell that?”

Anduin looked at her, puzzled, as the guards burst in and began tying the woman on the ground up. “Smell what?”

“It’s like… freshly baked bread.” She sniffed the air again. “And a fire on a cold winter’s evening.”

“Well, it’s almost winter, but bread…? Are you sure she didn’t do anything to you, aunt— Lady Jane?”

Jane hid her frown at the title; she hadn’t asked Anduin to refer to as Jane, much less to quit calling her auntie, but he did so anyways.  _ Because I’m not his auntie. His auntie is dead and buried. _

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head. "No, she didn't touch me."

Anduin relaxed visibly at that. “Would you like me to help you into a wheelchair? We’ll likely be interrogating her outside; she may have some information on why the Horde bombed Theramore.”

She didn’t quite want to watch an interrogation— no doubt it’d be violent— but her head was swimming with the smell of her attacker and she felt like she was boiling in the confines of her room. “That would be lovely, Anduin, thank you.”

As the woman’s unconscious body was dragged outside, Anduin helped Jane into the wheelchair one of the night elves had stored away from when they had broken their leg. She was getting better at walking short distances, thanks to the help of the priests and physical therapy, but the wheelchair was a great help for when she needed help getting around.

When they made it outside, the villagers, the Kul Tirans, and Alliance soldiers gathered around, whispering amongst each other. The woman had woken up and was struggling against her bonds, but stopped when she noticed Jane being wheeled towards the group. Her nostrils flared as she stared hungrily at Jane, her body leaning in her direction; it seemed the only thing keeping her from was a massive hand holding her by the scruff of her neck.

“I should’ve known Hellscream would’ve sent an assassin after my daughter,” Katherine began as she stepped forward from the crowd, sneering down at the woman, who paid her no mind. “But a Dark Ranger? You’re a long way from the cesspool you call a home. I’m surprised Sylvanas sent one of your kind here.”

The woman didn’t give so much as a glance in Katherine’s direction; instead, her eyes seemed to follow the sweat that began to drip from Jane’s forehead.  _ Why was it so hot all of a sudden? _

“What are you doing here? Speak!” The Lord Admiral drew her sword, pressing it against the assassin’s neck. “Speak, or I’ll have you sent back to your Dark Lady in pieces!”

Finally, the woman’s eyes left Jane, narrowing up at Katherine. “If I wanted your daughter, or any of you, for that matter, dead, I would have done it already,” she hissed in the echoing dual-tone Jane had heard before.

A hush fell over the crowd, hands immediately on blades, bows, and guns. Katherine’s eyes widen, first in surprise, then in anger. “Unmask her. Now!”

The hand on her neck pulled down her hood, while another ripped off the mask that covered her face. In the crowd, several people screamed, and many of the villagers scattered to the safety of their respective homes. A few of the guards dropped their weapons. Even Anduin was surprised, whispering a prayer under his breath.

Yet, Jane found herself captivated by the woman. She was beautiful, despite her skin being an ashen gray and hair a pale, sickly yellow that betrayed what could only have once been beautiful blonde locks. And yet, she looked so familiar. Just like the face she’d seen a few days ago in her mind.

“And, why, if I may ask, are  _ you  _ doing here, Sylvanas?” Katherine whispered, voice quivering with rage as the sword dug deeper into her neck. “Why not send one of your lackeys?”

“ _ Because _ , Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas purred, fangs showing as she bit her lip and undressed Jane with her eyes, “I’m in a rut. And it’s all your daughter’s fault.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter didnt want to get written until it suddenly did. the aspects took off to get the focusing iris, but i, like an idiot, didn't mention that. unless i did and just forgot. anyways they'll be back. im not sure when thrall is coming in either.
> 
> ive been having a tough week, so comments are appreciated and help me keep going. 
> 
> In this chapter:  
> Sylvia - Sylvanas

“I’m very sorry about your champagne,” Jaina said as she forced a glass of water into Sylvia’s catatonic hands. “I cleaned it up as best as I could with what you had.”

Sylvia nodded, staring ahead blankly as she took a sip.

“I should probably explain myself.”

“That would be helpful, yeah,” she murmured, glancing at the other woman as she sat in the chair across from her, hands crossed in her lap.

“To begin… Your friend, Jane, is not dead. She was, for a time. And so was I.”

The words shot through Sylvia’s heart like a knife. She took a long swig, wishing she were drinking whiskey instead.

“We met somewhere, in the boundary between worlds; not quite living, and not quite in the Shadowlands. Now, I had a lot of time to think about this, though most of my memories are a blur— I think that, somehow, our deaths coincided at the exact same time our universes passed over each other. I don’t know when it happens, or how, but I have reason to believe we are alternate universe versions of each other, and that our ‘deaths’ caused some sort of… hiccup. Whereas I survived my explosion thanks to the help of a friend, your _Jane_ did not.”

Jaina tucked her legs under herself, getting more animated as she spoke. Sylvia would’ve probably thought it was cute, if she could stop thinking about how much like Jane it made her. “I think that, because of the timing, we were both meant to either die or survive _together_ , not separate, and the forces-that-be got confused. They put us in the wrong bodies, but by the time it came for me to take Jane’s body, she was dead, and our universes had already passed each other by, so I was stuck in a sort of Limbo, scared and confused.

“But, seeing as my body was alive and hers wasn’t, they decided to just keep me in that Limbo and wait until the time came that our universes passed over each other once more— only a few days to a week in mine, but exactly _one year later_ in yours! Something kept me magically preserved in that coffin, unable to rot, until magic allowed me to break free and crawl out! It’s absolutely incredible, is it not?!”

Jaina gasped for breath at the end of her rant, eyes wide and twinkling with delight. Sylvia stared at her, slowly putting two and two together.

“Jane’s still alive…? Is there any way to get her back?”

The other woman looked down at the floor, all of her excitement gone. “Unless we somehow time my death with hers once again in a year exactly, I don’t think so.”

“So… She’s just stuck there?” Sylvia felt tears prick at her eyes and willed them away with a few hard blinks.

“Maybe. I was only there, in my… in my old body for a short minute before I woke up here. Unless you know a chronomancer who can break the boundaries of the universe, I’m stuck here as well."

* * *

A slap to the face she would've expected, but a punch? Sylvanas was surprised the old woman would even think to do such a thing herself, much less have the strength for it. She moved her jaw carefully, relishing in the pain that blossomed throughout, eyes locked back onto the younger Proudmoore. She was unnerved by her gaze, she could tell, but curious too. 

Like she didn't recognize her. 

If the Lord Admiral's fist hurt in any way, she made no sign of it, only staring down at it in distaste as she brushed away the sweat that no doubt had gotten on her glove. “Well then. No matter your reasons for being here, or for attacking my daughter—”

“I didn’t _attack_ your daughter,” Sylvanas snarled, somehow offended that she would think such a thing.

“— I’m sure the Alliance will appreciate you as a gift from Kul Tiras.” She turned to Anduin, who immediately straightened his back at attention. “Do not take this as us rejoining the Alliance. We have not forgotten how your father and his advisors refused to take revenge against the Horde for the death of my husband, but we will leave Jaina’s recovery, and her safety, in your hands for now.”

She turned to a Kul Tiran guard. “Bring me the Mage’s Bane.”

 _Mage’s Bane?_ Sylvanas snorted at the name as the guard ran off, bringing back a small chest only moments later from the house she had infiltrated. Katherine opened it carefully, picking up a small, silver collar laced with glowing runes.

A Mage’s fucking Bane indeed.

She’d seen a collar like that used only once when she was a child, back in Quel’thalas. A necromancer who’d been plaguing land had been brought back to the city by her mother and her rangers, wearing a silver collar exactly like that, screaming and ranting about how one day he’d kill them all. He’d been executed later that day, the choker still on his neck.

“I brought this should the apprehension of… my daughter have proved too difficult, as it no doubt would. I wonder what it’ll do to a magical creature such as yourself?” Sylvanas squirmed, her eyes darting back and forth between the collar and Jaina. “Will it send you back to your grave, or simply render you useless?”

The Lord Admiral unlocked the Mage’s Bane with a simple flick of her fingers, the runes glow fading away. “Regardless, I’m sure it will be a fun experiment,” Katherine sneered.

Sylvanas attempted to escape her bonds as the Lord Admiral approached with the collar, getting a good headbutt and kick in as she flipped onto her feet. The guard, however, were too numerous, especially without her rangers at her side, and were able to overwhelm her, forcing her back to her knees. The collar snapped shut around her neck only moments later.

It was agony.

Sylvanas flung her head back and wailed, but there was no power, no force behind it like she needed it to be. It was the cry of a woman being torn apart, soul ripped from her body, to which it clung desperately. The pain reminded her of Frostmourne.

Just out of her peripheral, the younger Proudmoore fell out of her chair, clutching her head and joining her screams with Sylvanas. The Lord Admiral and the prince rushed to her side, calling out to her over the sound, but she simply reached out a hand, her palm filling with energy.

_It was hurting her too._

A flash of ice shot through the air and pierced the collar, sending a crack through the runes. The pain stopped and Sylvanas felt her soul settle back into place just as the mage passed out. Despite being made of much heartier stuff that the other, Sylvanas sunk into the ground below, body shaking uncontrollably.

“Elune help us,” a nearby night elf whispered. “Alor’el, in the flesh!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alor'el - Lover's Leaf, a leaf that only blooms if the couple has a perfect love. The usage here will be explained later.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to force my way through this one, but i managed anyways. time what's that the rules don't matter. sorry it took forever to update, im running low on meds and have been sleeping all day.

_ IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP PLEASE MAKE IT STOP _

Thad had been watching the laptop’s screen with morbid curiosity even after Kaleb ran off, not wanting to get wrapped up in whatever Thad had gotten himself into. He didn’t blame the other man; reading back through what had already been written was strange enough even for him. It was like reading someone’s idle thoughts, interspersed with thoughts on their plain surroundings and the surrounding people.

The document filled with a chant, begging for some kind of pain to stop, until, finally, the words stopped writing themselves. Thad took a sip of the beer he’d gotten at some point, tapping his fingers against the desk. He couldn’t take the computer to a holy person, like Kaleb had suggested— no doubt they’d just laugh him off, or, worse, give him the number to a therapist. Trying to turn it off, leave it off the charger, or just close the document didn’t work… but there was one thing he hadn’t tried yet.

He watched the screen for any sign of the writing starting back up, eyes never leaving the screen for more than a moment. Once it did, the thoughts groggy and confused, he began typing.

“Is that you, Jane?”

_ What the fuck? _ the screen wrote back.  _ Who wrote that? _

“It’s Thad. What happened to you?”

A pause.  _ I… died? I think? What are you talking about? How are you talking to me? Why do you sound robotic? Am I insane now? _

“Calm down,” he wrote, cutting her off. “Something weird is going on.”

_ As if things weren’t weird enough. What’s going on? _

With what was likely a little too much nonchalance for his current situation, Thad wrote out what had happened recently— her death, resurrection, and the mystery of the self-writing computer that he was currently using to talk to a woman who should, by all accounts, be dead.

And all she had to say was,  _ Wow. That’s crazy. _

The haze of detachment that had fallen over him threatened to break at that moment; of all the ways she could have reacted, that’s what she picked? He rubbed his temples and sighed through his nose.

_Thank you for telling me all that, I guess. It’s kinda creepy knowing there’s someone reading my every thought._ _But it’s comforting to know what’s going on… I guess in our world? Jeez, that’s weird to think._

Thad stared at the screen, unsure of what to say.

After a moment, she began to think back at him.  _ So, uh. How’s my family? How’s Arthur? How’s… my body doing? _

It took a second for him to figure out what to say; things weren’t too well with the Moores, with her mother in the middle of a breakdown last he checked on her, and Tanner losing sleep keeping her alive and safe. “Your family’s okay, handling it as well as they can. Your body goes by the name Jayna (idk how it’s spelled) now, and she’s with Sylvia for the time being. Arthur is—”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Arthur. Fucking Arthur. He’d completely forgotten to ask Sylvia about that shithead!

“— keeping himself occupied.”

The platitude would likely calm her down enough to keep her from asking more questions, at least until he could text Sylvia and ask for more details. According to the document, Jane relaxed, thankful that things were, seemingly enough, okay.

_ Someone’s coming in— it might be Anduin. Try not to read my thoughts the entire time, okay?  _ she added teasingly. 

_ I wouldn’t dream of it. _

With that, he closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes, groaning softly.

* * *

At the door was Anduin, as well as Katherine and the boy that had interrupted the dragons the day before. The boy— Wrathion, she thought his name was— was carrying a tray of food and water for her, his face scrunched up into the cutest pout she’d ever seen. He stood in the doorway until Anduin gave him a smile and a nod, to which he handed over the tray rather forcefully. Jane sat up and accepted the tray, earning only a sneer in return before he ran to hide behind Anduin, watching her from over his shoulder.

Katherine watched Wrathion for a moment before clearing her throat and speaking. “I… greatly apologize for what transpired last night. I know there is no way to have predicted what happened, but I still feel I am somewhat to blame. However, since you are awake and seem lucid, I thought I would deliver the news myself.

“The Aspects have returned, along with the Focusing Iris. They’re currently resting from their flight, but the Spell-Weaver will be around later to inspect you. The… infiltrator has been locked away on one of the Alliance ships. One of the night elves said it would be in our best interest if she remained  _ close _ to you,” she sneered, glancing at the window. “I must return to Kul Tiras, but I will do my best to remain in contact. If you and my daughter are to return to your proper places, I would like to know of it.”

She nodded, then wrung her hands together nervously. “If you don’t mind me asking, um, Lord Admiral… what did Jaina do to require a trial?”

Katherine’s eyes darkened, lips pursed into a thin line. “I’m sure Anduin would be happy to tell you the details. I must get ready to leave.”

The woman spun on her heel and marched past the two teenagers, the door slamming shut behind her. Jane turned to Anduin, who looked incredibly nervous.

“Well, um… Auntie… she… She inadvertently got her father, Daelin, killed. By the Horde.”

Jane’s eyes widened at the realization, visions flashing by her eyes in that very moment. A man, singing to her as he held her, then that very same man, invading a city— her city— in an effort to bring her home. Standing aside and watching her allies, her friend, cut him down.

_ Her father, choking on his own blood, face torn apart by a wolf’s claw, meeting her eyes as the light left his own. _

“Is she okay?” Wrathion whispered to Anduin, loud enough to snap her out of her strange reverie. “Does she do this often?”

Anduin glared at Wrathion and shushed him, then turned back to her, concern etched into his face. “Is everything okay, Jane? You seemed… distant, for a moment there.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” she muttered, letting out a harsh breath. “I just… remembered something.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, I’ll… I’ll be alright, but thank you for your concern.”

The boys glanced at each other, obviously not convinced, but decided to leave her to eat. Instead, she set the tray aside, grabbed the trash can next to her bed, and promptly threw up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is UP my dudes i fell out of my mania into a deep depression and couldn't write for a while but i was able to pound this shitty chapter out!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The knocking came hard and fast, well after midnight and well after Jaina had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Sylvia thought about just leaving Arthur there— and she knew full well it was him, because who else would it be at this hour?— but she would have to deal with finding him slumped against her door in the morning, or, worse, get woken up by the police if one of her neighbors found him first.

Sighing, she snuffed out the cigarette she’d been nursing and tightened the robe she’d put over her pajamas with a shiver— despite the fact she’d turned the heater as far up as it could go, a chill had begun to infiltrate the house only an hour or so ago— then headed to the door. “I’m coming!” she shouted as the knocking became more insistent, fiddling with the locks before flinging it open.

Arthur’s fist nearly collided with her face, stopped only by her quick reflexes catching his wrist before he could do so. The man was obviously wasted, cheeks ruddy with drink and eyes unfocused, not to mention the fact he could barely stand.

Sylvia sighed once again. “What are you doing here, Arthur?”

“I want to see her.” He leveled his best glare at her; a weaker woman might have folded under his stare, but not her.

“She’s asleep. As you should be. Go home.”

Arthur’s face crumpled with despair. “I miss her, Syl… I miss her so much… I just wanna see her again, please…”

“Actually, how did you even get here? You didn’t drive, did you?”

He hiccuped and nodded.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what is wrong with you?!” Sylvia pulled him into the apartment and sat him on the couch, where he immediately fell to his side. She grabbed a cup of water from the kitchen and set it on the coffee table. “Just… stay here, and I’ll grab some blankets and a pillow.”

If Arthur heard her, he gave no sign of it, instead staring blankly into the distance and moaning.

Making her way to the linens closet, she noticed the air grew colder the closer she got to the guest room, where Jaina was holed up. Sylvia abandoned her search for blankets and opened the door with a knock. “Jaina? Are you okay—?”

A gasp escaped Sylvia. The room was literally frozen, ice forming on the walls, ceiling, and over the floor. The sparse decorations were slowly being encased in blocks of ice, and a gentle snow had begun to settle over the room. In the bed, which had been seemingly spared from the icy tomb, was Jaina, trembling like a kitten.

_ What the fuck? _

Steeling herself against the cold, Sylvia entered the bedroom, careful to take small steps as to not slip on the icy floor. Though her teeth chattered and her breath formed before her eyes, she continued on until she reached Jaina and shook her shoulder. The woman was freezing cold to the touch— it felt like sticking an ungloved hand into a pool of water that had frozen over— but she forced herself to keep shaking her until Jaina woke with a scream, sitting up straight.

_ “PAPA!” _

The ice around them cracked and shattered all at once before disappearing, the spell over the room broken. Jaina gasped for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sylvia could only stare at her, too shocked to speak. After a few seconds of silence, the other woman finally noticed the hand on her shoulder and blushed, but made no move to push her away.

“I’m sorry, Sylvia,” she whispered, unable to look at her. “I was having a nightmare.”

It took a moment for Sylvia to find her voice. “I, um… noticed. The entire room was frozen over.”

“Oh dear.” Jaina’s blush deepened. “I’m very sorry. I hadn’t meant to—”

“Nobody  _ means _ to have a nightmare,” Sylvia scoffed. “But, uh… you— we’ve got a visitor. He’s drunk out of his mind, so he might… mistake you for someone else.”

Jaina tilted her head up at her curiously, and,  _ oh _ , how that made her heart leap in her chest. “Who is it? Do I— Did Jane know him?”

Sylvia bit her lip, thinking. After a moment, she said, “Yeah. He was her fiancé. His name is Arthur.”

“Oh.” Her bright blue eyes searched her own. “Is it… okay if I speak to him?”

She huffed a sigh. “I mean, knock yourself out. I doubt he’s even awake right now. Though he might’ve gotten into the liquor cabinet.”

Jaina nodded and slipped out of the bed, throwing on the robe Sylvia provided her with earlier, and followed her to the living room. There, they found Arthur miserably nursing the cup of water she’d left with him, the glass half empty. When they entered, Arthur’s head shot up and he put down the water before standing up, eyes wide.

Sylvia stepped away from the two as Arthur approached, a knot forming in her stomach.  _ Why do I feel like this?  _ she wondered, watching as Arthur carefully touched Jaina’s face, hands trembling.  _ It’s not like we were ever a thing. I have no right to be jealous. _

Still, the knot in her stomach twisted at Jaina’s soft smile, the thought that she should be giving her that smile to her, not Arthur, coming unbidden to her mind. And when Arthur leaned in to kiss her, well…

It was an understatement to say she was delighted that he ended up vomiting right in front of her. She was sure it would end up on Jaina, but she prevented it with a wave of her hand, a shimmering force preventing any of it from landing on her. Sylvia rushed forward to grab Arthur and guide him back to the couch, helping him drink a bit more water as she told Jaina where to grab the blankets and pillows for him. Apparently, she’d cleaned up the vomit with a wave of her hands, so that was dealt with already.

“Good job, you fucking idiot,” slurred Arthur as Sylvia helped pull off his shoes. “Throwing up on your goddamn fiancée after she crawled out of the grave.  _ Goooood  _ job.”

Sylvia sighed, tossing the shoes to the side. Jaina returned with a set of pillows and sheets, placing the pillows at the end of the couch as Arthur fell atop them, then spread the blankets out on top of him. He was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow, more peaceful than Sylvia had seen him be in a while.

“I’m sorry about… that,” Sylvia whispered, gesturing to the drunkard on her couch. “He didn’t take Jane’s death well.”

“He looks just like him,” Jaina whispered back, staring down at Arthur.

“Like who?”

“My first love.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the late updates, but ive been sleeping all day

Kalec came in shortly after the boys, his bandages no longer visible to the naked eye, if they were there at all. Jane felt grateful for the nurse who took away the wastebasket she’d vomited in earlier, allowing the smell to waft out of the open window. 

The dragon— a  _ dragon _ , Jane thought giddily, a real life dragon! As if things weren’t crazy enough!— smiled when he entered, though his disgust at the lingering smell was not very well hidden beneath it. He was quite handsome; a chiseled jaw, luscious blue hair, and a body that would’ve made Arthur jealous just being near him. 

“It’s nice to… I guess re-meet you, Lady Jane,” said Kalec, bowing low to her.

“Oh! Uh, you too, Mr. Kalec.” Jane bowed slightly in turn, a blush on her cheeks. “That is your name, right?”

His smile widened. “It is my mortal alias. You may refer to me as either that or Kalecgos, if you wish.”

“Oh! Um, which do you prefer?”

“Kalec for now is fine. Now,” he rolled up his sleeves and held out a hand, “may I see your arm?”

She gave him her arm, suppressing a shiver at his touch, and watched as his eyes began to glow with blue light, searching up and down her arm. “Curious…!” he murmured, leaning in closer to her.

“What’s wrong?”

He blinked and traced his fingertips along her veins; this time, she did shiver, feeling something rise to the surface under his fingers, before settling down when he moved them. “I’m— I’ve never seen anything quite like this!” Kalec was nearly nose-to-skin with her arm; she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “Your mana is… well, it’s incredible! Far past the limit of any normal human’s— yet your body is holding it all in instead of imploding on itself. I’ve never seen anything quite like it!”

“Mana?”

He blinked up at her, as though noticing her for the first time, then blushed and released her arm with a cough. “Um, yes, well… mana is the lifeblood of the arcane… in our world, I guess you would say. It is the force that allows us to bend the elements to our will, like… this!”

A gasp escaped her at the little floating ball of air that appeared in front of her with the wave of Kalec’s hand, shifting until it turned into a strange creature with little fists and eyes. It blinked up at her and gave a tiny nod before dissipating. “What was that?!”

The dragon grinned, eyes alight. “That, my dear, was an air elemental! A fairly simple spell for a trained spellcaster…” He dove into the logistics of how he made the spell, which Jane took in ravenously. “Here, why don’t we burn off some of that excess mana? Try focusing on creating a ball of air in your fist first, then we can move on to creating an elemental like I did.”

Jane nodded, turning her focus to her hands; drawing on the energy she’d felt earlier under Kalec’s fingers, she imagined a ball of air between them. When the wind in the air grew cold and began whipping at her hair, she refused to release her focus, Kalec’s shout of worry lost in the squall.

Just as the dragon lunged forward to stop her, the elemental burst forth beside her, larger than either of them, its head grazing the ceiling. It gave her a low bow before disappearing as she stared up at it in shock.

“That was…” Kalec swallowed.

“Incredible!” Jane cried, throwing up her arms. “I can’t believe I did that! Magic is incredible!”

Kalec gave her a soft, fond smile. “ _ You’re _ incredible, Jaina…” he whispered, leaning forward, eyes half shut.

A small part of her screamed at her to lean in, to lock lips with his own— and she almost did, until a knock came at the door. The two of them immediately jerked away, spinning towards the door, where a guard opened the door at Kalec’s command.

“Forgive me, milady, milord,” said the guard, bowing low. “But I have a message.”

“Speak, soldier,” Kalec demanded, staring daggers at the guard.

“There’s a green… an orc, at the gates. Claims he knows Lady Proudmoore personally. Said his name was Thrall.”

That sparked something in Jane.  _ Why does that name sound familiar? _

“I should… probably get going. Alexstrasza and the others are bound to leave with the Focusing Iris, but I would like to stay here, with Chromie, to inspect this mana situation further, if you’ll allow me.”

“Of course,” she murmured, glancing out the window. The townsfolk were nowhere to be seen, but guards were rushing to where the gates assumedly were. To the guard, she said, “Send him in, please.”

The guard nodded and rushed away, armor clanking. For a moment, it was just the two of them in total silence.

“I should go,” said Kalec, turning away.

“Who was she to you?” Jane blurted out at the same time. “I mean… Jaina. It’s obvious you knew her.”

The dragon clenched his fists and sighed, smoke escaping his nostrils. After a tense silence, broken only by the clanking of armor outside, he spoke. “She… she and I were lovers, if I’m being honest. But she’s gone now, and I shouldn’t have tried to put you in her shoes. I’m sorry.”

Kalec stood and straightened his jacket. “I’m sure you and Thrall have much to talk about.”

Jane opened her mouth to speak— what she would say, though, she wasn’t sure— but Kalec slipped out of the room before she could, exchanging pleasantries with this Thrall person as he passed.

A moment later, the largest man she’d ever seen ducked into the door, two guards flanking the doorway just outside. The first thing that struck her was that his skin was  _ green _ , covered in scars long healed and made almost modest by the simple cloths and furs he wore. He had long, black hair, separated into two decorated braids at either side, and a thick beard separated into three parts by the same decoration in his braids. When he smiled down at her, it further showed off the tusks that jutted out of his mouth, but made his tired blue eyes light up.

“Thank the Titans!” the giant man rumbled, sweeping her up into a surprisingly soft hug. “When I received word about Theramore, I truly feared the worse.”

He pulled back, grinning, before taking on a shy look. “Oh! I’m so sorry, my dear friend; they told me you might not be able to remember things, due to your injuries. I should have introduced myself.” Throwing back his shoulders and puffing out his chest, he slammed his fist against his heart. “I am Thrall, son of Durotan and Draka, Leader of the Earthen Ring. We have been close allies for many years.”

Suddenly, something clicked in Jane’s mind as she gaped at the giant green man. “You!” she cried, pointing wildly at him.

Thrall pointed at himself, a confused look on his face. “Me?”

_ “You! You’re the main character of my story! You’re Go’el!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU ALL SAID I COULDN'T GET A LOVE TRIANGLE IN BUT I DID!!!!!!!!! [EVIL LAUGHTER]
> 
> anyways expect sylvanas and an explanation on alor'el next chapter. remember that your comments keep me going and inspire me! i wouldnt have made it this far without yall!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i promised the alor'el explanation but this chapter got away from me.

“Get up, jackass,” said Sylvia, smacking the blanketed lump that was Arthur on her couch, “breakfast is ready.”

The lump groaned, burrowing a bit until finally pulling back to reveal Arthur’s disheveled form. His eyes blinked blearily up at her, glaring at the food and water she immediately shoved at him before taking it from her. “Thanks…”

“Don’t thank me, thank Jaina. She’s the one who made it.”  _ “Made it” being a huge understatement; she’d literally conjured it from thin air, looking very proud of herself for doing so. _

Arthur’s face twisted up in a mixture of despair and self-hatred, no doubt remembering the events from last night. “M’ head hurts…” was all he grunted after a moment, immediately shoveling food into his mouth as if to cover up the fact he said anything.

“No fucking shit. You were black-out drunk when you drove here, and then you threw up all over my carpet.” Sylvia plopped next to him, turning on the TV before spreading her arms along the back of the couch, one leg crossed over the other. The channel had been left on some talk show, and, of course, they were talking about Jaina’s resurrection, as they had been since the news broke. Shouldn’t it have been old news by now?

Arthur winced at the sound, but watched the screen as he ate, a scowl slowly growing on his face. “Where’s Jane?”

“ _ Jaina  _ is in the bathroom, taking a shower.”

Silence spanned between them. If she strained her ears, she could hear the faint sound of singing from the bathroom.

_ “How do we really know it’s her?” _ argued one host to another.  _ “It could’ve easily been a set up to get media attention for her next book!” _

_ “And why would they need to do that?”  _ another one piped up.  _ “She’s ridiculously popular, and her books sales skyrocketed after her ‘death’. And eyewitnesses reported that she has no idea who or where she is, or what happened to her!” _

In the distance, the sound of singing stopped. No doubt she’d be drying off by now; hopefully the clothes she provided fit her.

_ “The blood tests and fingerprints say—” _

_ “And you trust those? The Menethils and Moores are rich! They could have easily had the results falsified and sent out to convince everyone it was really her!” _

_ “Then what are you proposing? That she has an identical twin with her exact fingerprints who was kept secret until a year after her death?” _

“I don’t like this,” Arthur croaked, setting down his now clean plate on the coffee table.

Wordlessly, Sylvia changed the channel to a random cartoon show just as Jaina walked in, fluffing out her still damp hair the best she could. “Good morning!” she crowed cheerily, sitting delicately in a chair next to the couch. When she noticed the cartoon on the screen, she became immediately enamoured, tilting her head and staring with her mouth agape.

Goddamn it, she was so fucking adorable.

Sylvia cleared her throat and began to explain how the TV worked the best she could, a blush coming to her cheeks at Jaina’s honest-to-god giggle and clapping when one of the cartoons slammed an exaggerated mallet into the other, making it fold down into an accordion.

“It’s like a puppet show! It’s incredible!”

She grinned, leaning forward and unfolding her legs. “Yeah, it’s pretty damn cool. My little brother used to create little flip books for me like that before I went on tour; usually it was of me as an awesome warrior princess, to go along with the comics he made of me.”

“Comics?” Jaina turned away from the TV, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Sylvia opened her mouth to explain, before realizing she could just show her. “Hold on. I’ve still got a copy.”

Running into her bedroom, she pulled out a plastic box from beneath her bed, rummaging through it as Arthur and Jaina appeared in the doorway behind her. The box was filled with old memorabilia she’d salvaged from her family estate, including her sisters’ matching necklaces.

After a bit of cursing, she held up one of her brother’s comics with a sharp, “hah!” then presented it to Jaina, who took it with gentle hands, as though being handed a holy artifact.

“You never told me you had a brother,” Arthur pouted, looking over Jaina’s shoulder.

“You never asked,” she scowled in reply.

Jaina ignored the both of them, reading through the comic slowly and carefully. She took great care not to bend or fold any of the pages, though it’s not like Sylvia would have minded, as she’d done so many times before. “It’s incredible,” she whispered, lingering on the last page, that showed her kissing the other princess who looked suspiciously like Jane, though Sylvia hoped neither Jaina nor Arthur would recognize her.

“Thank you, I’m sure Liam would’ve appreciated it,” said Sylvia, feeling tears sting at her eyes at the thought of her little brother. 

“Who was the girl on the last page?” Arthur’s disappointed frown told her he’d definitely recognized her, but he was going to do that thing where he weaseled out the truth he wanted from by being as petulant as possible until she told him.

“The girl I liked.” She squared her jaw and looked Arthur in the eye. “She’s not around anymore.”

Arthur’s frown deepened at that, but he didn’t press any further. Good.

“Well, wherever she is, I’m sure she would have loved that comic,” Jaina said, patting her arm. “Thank you for showing me it.”

“No problem,” she croaked. “... Can I speak to Arthur alone?”

The other woman didn’t even blink, only nodded. “I’ll be watching the cartoon if you need me.”

Once she was gone, Sylvia turned to Arthur, enraged. “The fuck was that?”

“The fuck was what?” he huffed, crossing his arms and turning away from her.

“That! Your little pout when I showed her the comic! Not to mention the fact you tried to  _ kiss _ her last night!”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. “I was just wondering who the girl was. Besides, I was drunk; it’s not like you haven’t tried to do something like that when you were drunk.”

“No!” she hissed. “I haven’t, actually! Because I can respect fucking boundaries and not try to kiss any woman who looks like my dead fiancée!”

He finally turned to her, poking her in the chest for emphasis as he spoke. “At least I’m not the one lusting after my  _ living  _ fiancée!”

_ “She’s not your fucking fiancée!”  _ she cried, grabbing him by his shoulders and letting the comic fall to the floor. “That isn’t Jane in that body anymore, you fucking idiot, no matter how much you wish it was!”

“You don’t know that,” he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes.

“I do, though, Arthur! I’ve seen the things she can do! I— I don’t know who or  _ what  _ she is, but she’s not the woman we loved!”

Silence.

_ “We?”  _ Arthur snarled, shrugging out of her grip and taking a step backwards. “What the fuck do you mean,  _ we _ ?”

“Arthur, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“No, I know exactly what you meant.” He shook his head. “I always knew you had a crush on Jane, but this…? What else were you keeping secret from me? What did you two get up to when I was away? Actually, no. I don’t want to know.”

Arthur turned and stomped away, leaving Sylvia to her thoughts with the slam of a door. A minute passed before she found the strength to pick up Liam’s comic, still on the page that showed her and Jane kissing. Tears marked the page, ruining the ink she’d taken care of for so many years— she’d made copies in case something like this happened, but it still hurt to see.

Jaina appeared in the doorway and, without a word, took Sylvia by the shoulders and led her to the bed, sitting her down next to her. She wrapped her arms around her and held her to her breast, humming softly as she sobbed for all that she had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh i made myself sad :(


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not totally in love with this chapter, but hey, i got it out
> 
> content warning for referenced sexual assault

_ Alor’el. _

_ Alor  _ fuckin’  _ el. _

If Sylvanas had a fraction of her strength back, she’d have burst the eardrums of the idiot kal’dorei who whispered it in her presence, along with the Alliance scum who whispered it in her presence. She’d never even met Proudmoore before now, only heard of her and her deeds, yet fate had decided she would mate with the human? Preposterous! She was Forsaken, unbound by the needs of living; she did not need a mate in life, and she would not need one in death.

And yet…

Her undead heart ached—  _ ached!— _ at the thought of Proudmoore, being in the same pain she’d felt when the Mage’s Bane had been placed around her neck, feeling as though her very soul was being ripped apart. And she could feel the power inside of her bubbling to the surface whenever she cast magic, the phantom sensation running through her entire body until it settled in her cock, hard as ever.

_ Alor’el _ .  _ Perfect love.  _ It was a word that transcended Thalassian and Darnassian altogether, but it was supposed to be a myth. 

The Sunwell connected all arcane beings together, whether they realized it or not, as Sylvanas had once been told, even if they did not draw their power from it. For the sin’dorei, it connected the elves by fate to the ones they would someday love, if their bond was powerful enough. Some of her rangers even said their bonds transcended death, to explain why they chose to mate even after becoming Forsaken. She’d never been inclined to believe, never having been able to feel the pull they described.

But this… this was unlike anything she’d been told about finding one’s mate; alor’el claimed that the mates shared a soul, tied together by magic, and could feel each other’s emotions, if strong enough. At times, she wondered if Proudmoore could feel the burning heat of her rut, now fading little by little, or if she just felt a little hotter than usual in the cool air. The thought sent shivers through her, though she knew it was unlikely; even a mage wouldn’t be able to feel the tug of the Sunwell unless something like the Mage’s Bane occurred.

A girl could dream, though. It’s all she had in her captivity.

“Break time, private,” came a masculine voice from the entrance to the brig.

The guard in front of her jail cell relaxed visibly. “Thank the Light, I thought you’d never come!”

“Sorry about that; I lost track of time,” said the voice, slightly muffled behind a bandana as they approached from the shadows. “Go ahead and take a longer break than usual, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Fuck yeah! I’ll be sure to save you a bit of grog!” The private smacked the figure on the shoulder, who didn’t so much as flinch at the touch, and handed them the keys. “And… if you decide to get handsy with her, be careful, she bites. Slut got Nate just yesterday, but he got a good grope in, so, if you wanna do anything, just keep the gag on the Banshee Bitch!”

The little fucker cackled his way up the stairs, leaving the new guard and Sylvanas alone to whatever fate may decide. Once the door slammed shut, the figure removed the bandana and then hurriedly set about finding the keys to unlock the door, then her shackles. 

“I’m so sorry that it took us this long to find you, my lady,” Nathanos whispered as another of her rangers, Clea, appeared from the shadows, holding a set of guards clothes for the both of them. 

Sylvanas grunted, falling into Nathanos’ open arms after her shackles were completely undone; her muscles felt like jelly, but she was slowly regaining her strength, she could feel it. She pulled off the gag and rasped, “It’s fine, you’re here now. Do we have a way of escape?”

“Yes,” said Clea, setting the guard outfits before her and beginning to don the armor herself. “Anya and Loralen have secured several gryphons for our use; Denyelle and Kalira will be creating a distraction with a fire, before meeting us at a rendezvous point nearby.”

Sylvanas nodded, pushing herself off of Nathanos and standing on her own, albeit shaky, feet. With his help, she donned the guard’s armor, then strode over to the chest that held her weapons and personal effects, sheathing the simple daggers she’d brought along and tucking her necklace in her pockets. Tucking her ears into the hood of her disguise, she made her way up the stairs, head down to avoid the notice of other guards, her rangers scrambling into line behind her.

As it turned out, the distraction was unnecessary, as the guards all raced to the gates to greet some visitor; who it was, Sylvanas couldn’t care less, but she was secretly pleased and thankful that her rangers wouldn’t be put in any more danger because of her. The plan went off without a hitch, even with their extra riders joining them, and the gryphons abandoned closer to Horde territory. Nathanos hunted down a wild rabbit for her to sustain herself on, which she gratefully accepted.

“Anya,” Sylvanas croaked after her meal was finished, handing the corpse to Denyelle. Anya, a statue in her own right, stood even stiffer under gaze. “I want you to keep tabs on Jaina Proudmoore for me; if she so much as speaks to someone, I want to know every word. If you have to disguise yourself as a night elf, do so. Make yourself her personal guard, if at all possible. She’s not to leave your sight for any reason, you understand? I want updates every fortnight, unless something important happens.”

“Of course, my lady.” Anya bowed low. “Do you fear her retaliation against the Horde, if I might ask?”

As good of an excuse as any. “Yes. She’s a powerful mage in her own right, and I have no doubt that she will find sympathy with the Alliance.”

The Dark Ranger nodded, returning to her original position, and fiddled with something on her neck. In a puff of smoke, she transformed into a generic kal’dorei woman. “I will return the gryphons and say they escaped. Al diel shala.”

Anya took the gryphons by the reins, hopping on one’s back to make travel quicker, and disappeared into the canopy.

It took everything Sylvanas had left not to rush after her, to rush past her and into the arms of her mate, even at the threat of true death.

“Shorel’aran, my mate,” the Banshee Queen whispered, staring out into the distance for just a moment longer, before turning her back on the village with a shuddering breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al diel shala: Safe travels.  
> Shorel’aran: Farewell.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Praemonitorius for inspiring me to finally write this chapter! Hopefully it meets y'all's expectations
> 
> Also, at some point, I will go back and fix the retcon that made Katherine leave earlier than she was supposed to
> 
> PS this is the farthest i've ever gotten in a long fic
> 
> edit: fixed chromie accidentally retconning that jane can "get home", even tho wrathion told her she couldnt

She probably sounded insane. No— she definitely sounded insane, judging by the look on Thrall’s face. But she was right! She had to be! Draka and Durotan were characters in her book— two orcs who gave birth to a little boy named Go’el who would save the world. There was so much that was different of course— the night elves, whom she thought were aliens when she first woke up, weren’t part of her creation, and neither was this Alliance or Horde she’d heard about. The dragons were new, too, having been only mythological creatures in the story.

But Go’el never grew up in her story— at least, insofar as much as she’d planned, which wasn’t much outside of worldbuilding. The man before her was much larger than the small babe that would be picked up by Blackmoore, to be hurt and trained into a vicious gladiator. His body was marked by battle, certainly, and she wondered how much of it had been of her own making.

“I… you know… my birth name?” Thrall questioned, the smile wiped from his face as he held Jane at arms length. “I’ve never told—”

“Because I wrote you!” Jane hissed, squeezing his surprisingly soft cheeks together. “I- I mean I didn’t really write _everything_ about you, because you grew up a- and you’re _huge_ now, but I created you! I created this world, for the most part!”

Gently, Thrall took Jane’s wrists and pulled them away from his face. “Jaina… are you alright…? You didn’t hit your head—? No, don’t answer that, that’s a stupid question after what you’ve been through. What do you mean you ‘ _created this world’?_ You don’t mean you… _created_ Azeroth, do you?”

“I know I sound crazy, but it’s true! I’m not from this world! I was— I was killed in my world, and- and _somehow_ , I ended up in my own story! In a body almost like my own, but I have magic now!”

“... You’ve had magic as long as I’ve known you.” Thrall sighed, releasing her wrists to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Okay, just… start from the beginning, Jaina, please.”

After taking a few calming breaths, Jane launched into what had happened between just before her death and after, interrupting herself often to remind him that she was telling the truth. She even added in what she had of Go’el’s backstory, just in case. Still, even after she finished, Thrall didn’t seem too convinced, brows deeply furrowed as he processed it all.

“So your name is…”

“Jane. Jane Moore. Not Jaina, whomever your friend was.”

“And you…”

“Made this world,” she finished with a nod.

Thrall sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is… this is all incredibly strange, you have to realize that. But… you know so much about me— even though I’ve never told you that part of my life.”

“I’m telling you, it’s the truth! You’re living proof!”

“Why am I your proof? Why not the others? You’ve been here for quite a bit, if what you’re saying is to be believed.”

“I… I think this world developed on its own, without me. Like. While I was dead, for however long it was, or maybe just while I wasn’t looking in the real— in my world, this world developed on its own around what I had planned out, and became its own thing.”

“Or maybe it’s an alternate timeline!” Chromie’s voice squealed from outside her window.

Thrall and Jane both jumped at the sound, Jane herself giving an undignified yelp. The little gnome hopped and grabbed onto the windowsill, pulling herself up with surprising strength before sitting on the edge, kicking her little legs. “Sorry for eavesdropping like that, but I couldn’t help it! I just got too curious!” the gnome giggled. “Anyways, it sounds like what you’re talking about may be, in reality, an alternate timeline. They can get sorta crazy like that— I’ve heard of weird timelines, but never been to them myself. I prefer to stick to Azeroth, thank you very much!”

“So you’re saying—”

“That you didn’t _really_ create Azeroth, like you might think, but! Maybe your subconscious gave you glimpses of another timeline like this one, and you just _thought_ you made it!” Chromie nodded triumphantly, as though she’d solved the puzzle.

Jane deflated. “I… guess that makes more sense than me being some kind of god.”

“But… how did she end up in this timeline?” asked Thrall, who pulled gently at his beard in thought.

“That… I haven’t figured out yet,” Chromie admitted. “But—! I’m sure I will soon! And I’m sure we’ll get you back home in no time!”

Jane knew that she was just saying that for Thrall's sake, and not hers.

Not after what Wrathion said.

* * *

“I’m not leaving.”

“ _Yes_ , Wrathion, you are. Regardless of whatever _visions_ you may have.”

Kalec glanced between the two, pulling at his ponytail nervously. They had been arguing since he’d entered the room, and had barely even taken notice of him, if at all. Ysera had taken to simply drinking the tea a poor servant had provided some time ago, nodding to Kalec from her perch on the bed when she’d noticed him.

“I’m not some whelp—”

“ _Yes, you actually are_.”

“— that you can push around! I know what I’ve seen, and it’s important I see that my vision comes to pass!”

Alexstrasza scoffed. “You are barely a year old, Wrathion— you cannot expect me to allow you to prance about unprotected!”

“Then send some bodyguards to watch me! Hell, if you really want me protected, leave me in the charge of Prince Anduin!”

“He is a _mortal_ , Wrathion—”

“There’s nothing wrong with him being mortal, mother! He’s made it this far with the guards he already has, hasn’t he? And besides, you’re letting Chromie stay!”

“Chronormu is an _adult_ dragon, unlike you, with centuries of experience under her belt— in fact, you could learn a thing or two on how to act from her!”

Wrathion opened his mouth to argue, but Kalec quickly cut him off. “Actually, your majesty… If I may, I think it would be good to let Wrathion learn more about the mortals from a more hands on experience.”

Alexstrasza turned her burning gaze onto him. “And you’re suggesting I let him go do whatever he likes, then, and risk the very life Rheastrasza died to protect?”

“Of course not,” he said, bowing quickly. “I mean, you should leave him in the care of an adult dragon who is already ingratiated in mortal society.”

“Chronormu will be far too busy to watch—”

“I was actually hoping to volunteer myself, your majesty. I was… hoping to actually ask permission to study the effects of the mana bomb on Lady Jane.”

The queen raised an eyebrow, glancing to the side in thought. Wrathion glanced between them, mouth shut in a tight line, anger bubbling just below the surface, ready to burst forth if she denied Kalec’s request.

“Very well,” she stated, returning her ever-piercing gaze to him. Wrathion’s mouth fell open, eyes bulging. “I ask that you do not leave his side, Kalecgos, unless you truly have to, and, even then, I want him watched by guards you trust at all times. I would _prefer_ dragons from your flight to guard him in your absence, but, if you trust mortals to do so, that is fine as well. I will ask that you give me updates about his progress among mortalkind when you are able.

“And Wrathion—” The queen turned on the whelp, whose mouth remained agape as he turned to her. “I expect you to _behave_. I know it will be tempting to run off and do whatever you like among mortals, but Kalecgos has only your best interests at heart, as do I. Try your best to keep your true identity a secret, if at all possible.”

“I— Yes, mother,” said Wrathion, bowing low.

“Oh, do not bow to me, child,” Alexstrasza whispered, gently touching his cheek. “You know I worry deeply for you and your safety. That is the only reason we fight. Do you understand?”

Wrathion’s cheeks darkened, but he nodded, biting his lips. “Thank you for allowing me this.”

The queen smiled. “And remember: if I discover you put yourself or Kalecgos in harm’s way, _you are grounded_.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: discussion of domestic abuse throughout the chapter  
> see end notes for tl;dr
> 
> this one poured out of me, and i didnt want to sit on it until morning.

“He used to hit her, you know.”

Sylvia has no idea what possessed her to say, but she did. Wrapped up in Jaina’s arms— in the arms that were once the girl she loved— and listening to her soft hum, she felt safe enough to spill the truth she’d promised to always keep secret. Besides, was she really breaking that promise if the person she was telling it to was in the same body?

Jaina stopped humming, but did not pull away, instead running a hand through her hair and waiting patiently for her to speak.

“It was right after his first proposal. She’d said no, and he went fucking insane. Start wailing on her, even broke her arm.” Sylvia licked her lips, recalling the night in question. “She refused to call the police, even after she found out he gave her a concussion. Said he was just upset about stocks and whatnot; she didn’t even tell me about the proposal until after the second one. She… just arrived at my door one night, drenched by the rain and looking like she’d gotten into a fistfight with a boulder and lost.

“She refused to tell me who did it at first. Told Malachi and Miranda— they’re the doctor and nurse who helped her the night we came in, and later she became friends with them— that she’d gotten jumped in the street. She refused to stay in the hospital long— demanded they release her into my care. Threatened legal action until they finally gave in. Turns out she was afraid of him coming to the hospital and getting them to release her into his care instead.”

Without realizing it, she’d begun crying, her words choked with sobs. Jaina simply held her tighter, pressing her chin into her hair.

“Every little thing made her jump for a while. I dropped a plate and she screamed. Just started bawling her eyes out, apologizing. Turns out it wasn’t the first time he’d hit her. She kept claiming it was her fault, but I could never convince her it wasn’t. I was already deep in the company when this was happening, too— my sister and her husband had gone missing, and I was using my paychecks to put the other through college— and Jane, she… she made me promise not to quit. I think she was afraid of what would happen to her if I did, so I stayed.

“She stayed with me for a few months. She’d constantly ask for updates about Arthur, too— how he was doing, was he eating right, was he exercising, et cetera. Arthur pretended like nothing was wrong, except for the fact he’d get angrier than usual when someone fucked up. We went through several secretaries because of his verbal abuse. Jane blamed herself, of course— if she hadn’t left, he wouldn’t be so upset, they’d be able to talk it out, she once said.

“I had to stop her from going back to him at night, too. Got a security camera set up that would alert me if someone got too close to the front door— she could never reach the camera without a chair, and I’m a light sleeper either way. Soon enough, I started sleeping on the couch just to stop her. Not that it mattered in the end.

“The night she went back to him… we kissed.” It felt good to say that. Really good. “I’ve loved her since I met her, and we… we got drunk. Not blackout drunk, just a little tipsy. Enough to lower our inhibitions. I wanted to cheer her up, so I popped out the wine, and we played party games. Truth or dare, I think. One thing led to another, and I asked her if she’d ever kissed a girl. She said no, she’d only kissed Arthur. I couldn’t believe it— a woman as beautiful as her, never kissed by anyone besides that piece of shit.

“We were giggly and stupid… so I asked if she wanted to give it a try. See what the fuss was about. To my surprise, she actually agreed. It was like something out of a romcom; she took me by the chin and pressed her lips to mine, and I saw goddamn fireworks. Sobered up immediately. She had the softest lips I’d ever felt in my life, and she tasted like cherry chapstick.

“Then that…  _ motherfucker... _ knocked on the door. Drunk and crying like a baby, begging Jane to come back home and apologizing for hurting her. Said he’d been going to therapy and got on some pills— that was actually true, which was a surprise to me. He was a goddamn mess, probably hadn’t washed his clothes in a week, and smelled like vomit. Yet… she went back to him. Packed up her stuff and ran out the door. Ran out on me.”

“Do you hate her for it?” Jaina asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“I… I don’t know. I read once that abusers know how to manipulate their victims into thinking only the best about them, but I dunno what she was thinking. I wanted to hate her for it, I think. But every time I thought about her, I thought about how good she tasted, how soft her lips tasted. Soon enough, she was asking me to take care of him if she couldn’t for some reason, and I said yes. That’s the only reason I haven’t said anything to her mother. I feel like I owe her that much. To keep him from meeting her in the afterlife— or, wherever she is now, I guess.”

Jaina hummed her acknowledgement, carding her hand once more through Sylvia’s hair. The tears had finally stopped, and she felt a little lighter for it.

“It sounds like you really loved her.”

“I did. I do. I’ve loved her since the day we met.”

“Did she know?”

“No. Not in the way I wanted her to know, I think. I think she thought of that kiss as something to forget, because she was a little drunk when it happened. But, sometimes, it’s all I can think of.” Sylvia took a deep breath through her nostrils. “I… was planning to crash their wedding. I was her maid of honor, and I was going to interrupt the wedding. Perhaps tell everyone what he did to her, if I had to, even though I’d promised to never tell anyone. Anything to stop her from marrying that— that  _ shithead.”  _

“I understand. Arthas, he… he never hit me, but he wasn’t a good person either, now that I look back on it. I think I stayed with him because I thought I could change him, then blamed myself when things went wrong. I… still blame myself, to be quite honest.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Sylvia murmured. “You didn’t make him do whatever he did to you. You weren’t his keeper.”

Whether Jaina believed her or not, Sylvia didn’t know. Instead of responding, Jaina simply began to sing.

_ “Ahoy, ahoy, sweet daughter of the sea, ahoy this child be mine…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Sylvia (Sylvanas) reveals that Arthur (Arthas) once beat Jane (Jaina) so badly that she had a concussion and broke her, and implied he had done it before. She arrived at Sylvia's home while injured, claiming she'd been jumped in the street, and had to be brought to the hospital, where they met Malachi (Malfurion) and Miranda (Tyrande). Jaina refuses to be kept overnight in the hospital, instead demanding to be left in Sylvia's care to prevent Arthur from caring for her instead.
> 
> Jane showed obvious signs of PTSD in Sylvia's care; Sylvia wished to abandon the company she and Arthur were part of, but Jane begged her not to, possibly fearing Arthur's retaliation. Despite the abuse, Jane continued to ask and care about Arthur, and even tried to escape several times to return to him. To stop this, Sylvia set up a security camera to alert her whenever someone approached the door, and even began sleeping on the couch. 
> 
> On the night that Jane returned to Arthur, Sylvia decided to have her drink lightly and play truth or dare. At some point in their game, Sylvia asked Jane if she'd ever kissed a girl, to which she reveals she'd only ever kissed Arthur. Sylvia is surprised by this, and asked if Jane would like to give it a try. Jane agrees, to Sylvia's surprised, and kisses her. Sylvia remarks that Jane tasted like cherry chapstick, and that she sobered immediately upon contact.
> 
> Right after, Arthur knocked on the door, dirty, drunk, and crying, begging Jane to return home and apologizing profusely. He claimed to have gone to therapy and had been put on medication to help his mood (though this is implied/assumed), and Sylvia remarks that she was surprised to find out he actually did. Jane immediately packed up her things and left with him.
> 
> Jaina asks if Sylvia hates her for it, and Sylvia says she doesn't know. She attempts to rationalize about victim mentality, but says she doesn't know what Jane was thinking at the time. Sylvia says she wanted to hate Jane for leaving, but couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, and implies that because of it she agreed to help care for Arthur. Her promise is the only reason she hasn't told anyone and is keeping him from just committing suicide. 
> 
> Jaina says it sounds as if she loved her, and Sylvia finally admits she does, since the day they met. Sylvia says she doesn't think that Jane knew she loved her romantically, but states that she was planning on crashing their wedding, in which she was the maid of honor, going so far as to reveal to everyone in attendance that Arthur was abusive, just to stop it.
> 
> Jaina sympathizes, revealing that Arthas was not a good person either, and she still blames herself for not being able to change him. Sylvia tells her that she shouldn't be, that she wasn't in charge of him. Whether Jaina believes her or not is unknown; instead, Jaina begins singing the song her father used to sing to her to help calm Sylvia down, and the chapter ends.
> 
> Remember, your comments keep me going.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now featuring the lovely Praemonitorius, who's been writing a bunch of stuff for Sylvia and Jaina and helping me brainstorm!

To get his mind off things, Thad decided spending a few days at the gym was just the thing he needed, when he wasn’t helping Wassim and Andy with their newfound training or helping them with homework. His mind went thankfully blank as he focused on his training regimen, the thoughts about Jane, in this world and whatever was happening in the afterlife she was in, the laptop, and any upcoming matches flying out the window as his muscles strained.

The TV in the gym blared some talk show in which a bunch of people sat in a half circle and chatted about recent events— of course, they were talking about Jane, showing images from her funeral and the paparazzi photos from the memorial, one of which featured his and Sylvia’s shocked faces. Thad stared at the screen as he lifted weights, unable to stop himself from listening in.

_ “I’m telling you, she was kidnapped by her family, she—!” _

_ “And what proof do you have of that, Charlie?” _

_ “Did you not see how much money they made in her absence? Sales skyrocketed— her books were at the top of the bestsellers for months! Then, once the sales started goin’ down, they let her out!” _

_ “But she lost her memory— how do you explain that?” _

_ “That’s what they want you to think! Maybe a lil’ knock on the head, sure, but who’s to say she isn’t in cahoots? Anyone can pretend to be an amnesiac.” _

_ “The grave site was desecrated, though, like someone dug their way out. Eyewitnesses say—” _

_ “They were paid off by the Menethils, of course! You think Arthur Menethil ain’t—” _

Placing his weights down with a loud thump, Thad gathered his things and headed to the showers.

* * *

_ Ahoy, ahoy, sweet daughter of the sea, ahoy this child be mine… _

Sylvia found her pace slacking as her mind wandered during her morning run, Jaina's little earworm, her little lullaby she sang for her the day before, working its way back into Sylvia's mind and throwing her pace off.

_ The admiral's girl, his whole entire world, for long, as stars do shine. _

Sylvia grunted and came to a stop at an intersection, partly to wait for the lights to change and partly to clear her head so she could get back to a proper pace. Hands on her hips, she kicked at the sidewalk, lost in thought. Eventually, she looked up and something in the store window before her caught her eye. 

The mannequin in the window was dressed in clothing a couple of seasons out of style; something common with small second hand shops— however, what had Sylvia's eye was the silver anchor necklace around its plastic neck. It certainly wasn't Jane's style, but something about it was singing to Sylvia that it certainly was Jaina's.

Morning run forgotten, Sylvia slowly walked towards the front door, hand reaching for the handle before eyes darted towards the sign that posted their operating hours, causing her to quickly pull her hand away from the door. She was still a little too early, but not by much. Stepping back, hands back on her hips and eyes on that necklace for a moment, Sylvia eventually turned away and gave her surroundings a better look.

So, her morning run was certainly finished, but she wouldn't return empty-handed, that was simple enough.

* * *

It’d been three days since Sylvia had come into work, but the message sent was clear enough: the company they’d built together with tears, sweat, and so much money, was less far important than a crush on the woman who belonged to him.

When he’d left Sylvia’s apartment, he’d gone straight home, sending a voicemail of barely contained rage to his secretary to give everyone the day off. Once he’d arrived, he let out a roar and immediately punched the wall to his left, leaving a massive hole and a bit of blood on his knuckles. He felt blind with rage, his coping mechanisms all gone out the window, as he tore through the house, destroying anything that even vaguely reminded him of Sylvia and Jane.

Gone were the pictures, from grade school to adulthood, ripped apart, their frames smashed on his knees. Gone were the lamps they’d picked out together, because Arthur had no sense of interior design. Gone were the flowers and vases, the dining room chairs, the tables, the TV, the computer, the…

The books.

Suddenly, Arthur came back to his senses, the red gone from his vision. In his destructive hands was the review copy of the book that launched her career: Hero’s Inheritance, first book in The Dragonthrone Trilogy.

He’d been about to destroy the thing she’d treasured most.

His shaky, sinful hands pried the book open the book, his eyes watering as he read the little dedication message inside:  _ To Arthur, the dragon slaying prince to my captured princess.  _

Despite having read it a million times, Arthur slowly sat down in the middle of the carnage, opening to the first page. His mind brought up images of laying his head in Jane’s lap as she read the story to him, using ridiculous voices and sound effects to get him invested. He’d often fall asleep to the sound of her voice, forgetting large swathes of the story, much to her chagrin. Once the book actually came out, Sylvia made sure that he actually read it, despite not being a fan of fiction.

It’d been so long since he’d even touched one of her books— the very thought made him remember all he’d lost.

Holding back his tears, he began to read aloud:

“The world was in grave danger. The Aspect of Earth, the great dragon Neltharion, had been driven to madness, taking upon himself the mantle Deathwing the Destroyer. The black dragons of Kinreth fell with him in their attempts to stop him, becoming his pawns in the destruction of all human and elven life.

That is, until the hero was summoned by the seven mages…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case ur curious: the dragonthrone series is about a boy who was summoned into another world and had to fight deathwing and save the world. he grew up in his time there, was traumatized, and even badly wounded. the story is about him trying to return to the world, because it feels like home, and then later saving it


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to Praemontorius for inspiring me to get this chapter out! this is nowhere near the end, but you'll find me updating a little slower due to seasonal depression. and maybe because i want to unlock some allied races and play the expansion our heroes are about to walk into.

The moment Sylvanas stepped into the main foyer of Grommash Hold, Garrosh Hellscream was bearing down on her, snarling and bearing his tusks. “You! Where have you been?”

Sylvanas cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “Reconnaissance,  _ Warchief. _ You’re familiar with the word, yes? Or is that one too big for your little brain?”

“Milady, perhaps you should not—” Nathanos interjected, only to be cut off by the Warchief.

“No, if you were on reconnaissance, Banshee, you would have left word. Not disappear out of thin air.” He huffed, blowing air into Sylvanas’ face and blowing back her hair. “What were you doing near Theramore,  _ Sylvanas?”  _

Her heart gave a slow, languid pump, her stomach roiling. Why was she nervous? She had no true connection to Proudmoore outside their soulbond— she should have no qualms selling the mage out to him. And yet, she faltered. “I wanted to see if there were any bodies left from the bombing that could be raised to join the Horde, Warchief, but you were so…” she licked her lips— “ _ thorough _ , with that bomb of yours, I couldn’t even find their leader, Proudmoore.”

For a moment, there was silence. Sylvanas felt her heart beat once again and silently cursed herself for feeling such base emotions.

Then, Hellscream’s face broke into a smile and he threw his head back, laughing heartily. She let out a single breath, not realizing she had stopped the facsimile of life in her anxiety.

“You’re damn right it was thorough! From what I was told by my scouts, everyone turned into statues from the blast— nothing left to raise!” He chortled for a bit before his face turned serious. “But Proudmoore is still alive. I’m planning on sending someone to take her out—”

Sylvanas’ eyes bulged out of her head and she found herself crying out, “No!”

Hellscream looked over her calculatingly. “No? What do you mean, no?”

Damn her— why was she acting like this? “I— I already dispatched one of my rangers to find her and bring her back to me to be raised. She’ll be a valuable asset to the Horde, if… sufficiently cowed to my will.”

The Warchief snorted. “Fine. But if I don’t hear any progress within a week, I’ll be taking matters into my own hands, and I doubt there will be anything left for you to raise once my rogues are done with her.”

“Of course, Warchief,” Sylvanas replied through gritted teeth.

Once Hellscream excused her, she turned on her heel, making sure her cloak billowed appropriately behind her.  _ Bastard. _

* * *

It took a few days for Jane to be able to walk on her own, so she spent most of her time with Chromie and Thrall, the latter of which decided he would accompany their ever growing retinue to Dalaran. Anduin and Wrathion joined them as well, bringing along board games to help stave off boredom once she learned how to actually play.

Kalec, after their near kiss the other day, avoided Jane like the plague, only approaching her when he had questions to ask her about her condition. She desperately wanted to learn more about Jaina, but she had no idea what it must be like, to see your lover’s face on a stranger’s body. It made her wonder how Arthur was coping.

As the days went by, things became slightly calmer. Katherine returned to Kul’Tiras, giving Jane a hug that, later that night, made her sob over the memory of her mother’s hugs. Thrall taught her bits of orcish, which rolled off her tongue with surprising ease, while Chromie helped her figure out who she knew in her own world correlated to the ones in this one, keeping an ever growing list in her stead. Kalec, in the company of others to keep from slipping up, taught Jane how to control what little magic she had. The sailors set about preparing the ships to head to Dalaran, while the little village chugged on about its life, just outside the borders of Horde territory.

The ship left early in the morning; a servant helped her into a spare outfit picked out by the town’s seamstress, then retrieved the staff she’d begun to use as a walking stick— Jaina’s staff, she’d been told, and it certainly fit the idea she’d created in her head of the regal woman. The crystal atop glowed as she grabbed onto it, siphoning some of her excess energy— mana, Kalec had called it— and Jane thanked the servant, then hobbled outside with its help.

The motley crew of friends she’d made in her time here were gathered on the beach, watching the sun rise as they ate their breakfast on the go. Jane had done the same and felt a little validated that she wasn’t the only one doing so.

“Good morning, everyone!” she called, putting on a cheery façade to mask the slight pain walking caused her.

Anduin immediately lit up, waving to her, careful not to disturb the sleeping whelp curled around his shoulders. “Good morning, Jane!” It had taken a while for him to not call her  _ “auntie”. _ “We’re just staying out of the way of the crew while they prepare the ship for travel; did you sleep well?”

“I—”  _ Slept like hell, like always, dreaming of my death, of my friends, of my family.  _ “— I slept alright. Thank you for asking.”

Kalec gave her a worried look, obviously unconvinced, but did not push it. “That’s good to hear. Perhaps, while we’re traveling, we could work more on your frostbolt?”

“If you need a training dummy,” Thrall piped up, “I don’t mind asking a spirit for its assistance, or using myself, if need be.”

“Are you sure?” Jaina leaned heavily against her staff, grimacing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Thrall waved his hand dismissively. “Even if you did hurt me, we have plenty of healers on board, least of all the prince, if he’s alright with it.”

Anduin jumped, having watched the conversation quietly but not expecting to be brought into it. Wrathion huffed, curling a bit tighter around his neck. “O-of course, sir! I’d be happy to do so!”

From aboard the ship, the captain called down to them to climb aboard. The group continued chatting amicably, albeit a bit sleepily.

For the first time Jane had arrived on Azeroth, she felt like she belonged, even for just a bit.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvia returns home with a gift for Jaina and Thad makes an interesting discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Prae here; I'm hoping this chapter holds up it's been a long time since I've written anything worth posting. Thanks to ELZacharie for editing my terrible grammar!

It still felt a little awkward to ring the bell to her own home, but honestly there was no way she would be able to open the door with her hands full, a tray of coffee in one hand and a paper bag of hot take-out breakfast in the other. Sure, there were ways, but hitting the little bell with her elbow was easier.

Jaina opened the door, seemingly hesitant at first but was more receptive when she saw that it was Sylvia at the door. "Welcome back." She smiled down at the items in her hands. "I see you've come bearing gifts."

"Breakfast." Sylvia grinned as she held up the paper bag. "I figured it was about time you had something that wasn't hospital food or pulled out of thin air," she added as she stepped into the apartment. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a few different things; I did take the guess and assume you are not vegetarian."

"No, I'm not," Jaina chuckled. "I tried once, for a little bit, but I missed Sailor's Pie just a little too much to keep it as a lifestyle choice." She stepped away to return back to the living room in front of the television that seemed to be playing another cartoon. Sylvia had briefly shown Jaina how to set up and use the streaming service, and it looked like she had picked a children's show about magic and dragons.

"You've been busy," Sylvia stated with surprise when she looked down at the coffee table, covered with sheets of paper from her printer and that day's newspaper with appropriate sales flyers. There was also an old fashioned quill and ink pot that Jaina must have conjured up. What really got Sylvia's attention was all the notes written on the sheets of paper in Jaina's flowing script; it certainly was something else compared to Jane's chicken scratch.

"The magic in this cartoon is nothing like I have ever studied before!" Jaina exclaimed as she sat back down on the floor, letting Sylvia place the food on her kitchen counter so she could take it out of the packaging accordingly. "I'm trying to take notes, but they don't really explain it well."

"Well why would they?" Sylvia asked in return as she walked over the few steps to place the take-out cup of coffee in front of Jaina, careful not to put it on any of the papers. "Magic isn't real— well, it wasn't until you woke up in Jane's body."

A moment of silence, outside the voices from the TV and the scratching of Jaina's magical quill. Eventually, she set it down next to her notes and Sylvia inwardly cringed— that was not the thing to say!

Jaina picked up the coffee and took a sip from it before diverting her attention elsewhere, letting Sylvia slip back into the kitchen so she could put the food on plates. "I was also looking through your city's newspaper. Not much I could really make sense of, outside these insane theory articles about Jane and I."

At least they could agree on that.

When Sylvia returned again with two plates of food, this time Jaina turned to take it in her own hands before moving to sit on the couch rather than the floor. Sylvia sat beside her, but a respectful distance away from her. She watched as Jaina poked at the food, clearly not recognizing the chosen dish before taking a bite. Her entire face lit up and Sylvia's heart did the same.

"This is good! What is it? Elvish?"

"It's a crêpe, it's French, " Sylvia explained as she ate a forkful of the sweet breakfast food. A treat for today, she figured, along with the staple eggs and bacon. "For all I know, the French could be elves in your world."

Jaina laughed once more and Sylvia couldn't help but smile.

The rest of breakfast went smoothly, Jaina doing her best to point out the mistakes of magic use in the children's show and how it should be properly applied. She even took the time to show the runes she had copied from the show and the corrections she made to them so they would actually 'work' for their desired intention.

It was rather adorable; Jane was the same way when she fixated on certain aspects of her own worlds that she wrote.

Once breakfast was finished and the show was over, Sylvia didn't bother putting everything away right away. She watched as Jaina scribbled away at her notes just simply fascinated by how skilled she was with a quill. 

"I have something for you," Sylvia forced herself to blurt out before she got cold feet, reaching into the pocket of her pants and pulling out a small paper bag. "It's nothing really, just saw it in the window of a second hand shop and it, well, made me think of you."

Jaina looked confused, but took the offered bag, as crushed as it was from being in Sylvia's pocket. She opened it to peer inside before almost dropping it in surprise. For a moment, Sylvia was thinking she over stepped, but Jaina fished the item out and held it in her hands with a rather sad look on her face. 

It was the silver necklace with the anchor pendant from that shop window. Sylvia was positive it was just a piece of costume jewelry to match the lullaby at first, but with the look on Jaina's face, she suddenly knew that this meant much more than that, with the way Jaina was holding it in trembling hands.

"Jaina?"

"It's fine, it's good. I'm okay."

"You clearly aren't, tell me about it."

Jaina nodded softly and began to tell her tale. About the island nation of Kul'Tiras where she was born; about the noble House Proudmoore and the power her family had over the nation. She went on to speak about Theramore, the small city she had founded with some refugees during the Third War.

More about Arthas; her thankfully less abusive version of Arthur— the way he had her twisted around his finger before she turned his back on him at the start of a dark, terrible path. How she still holds regret for not changing his path on that fateful day, but understands that there are some points in time that are just simply meant to happen. 

Now, Sylvia understood the importance of the anchor. It was the crest of the Proudmoore family and the crest of Theramore. Maybe it was fate that she found that little piece of home for Jaina in that little shop window. She watched as Jaina fastened it around her neck, her hand moving down to cradle it in her hand. 

"Hey," Sylvia spoke up after a moment to break Jaina out of what little dark hole her mind and wandered into. "There is a market down by the docks; it's a mixture of a farmer's market and a flea market." She smiled when she saw she had captured Jaina's interest. "It might be the closest we can get to a market you're familiar with. We can go take a look at what they have and stock up my cupboard with proper food as well. How does that sound?"

"That sounds wonderful," Jaina whispers with a smile. 

"Good. I'll go take a shower and get ready. Are you going to be okay finding something to wear?" Sylvia asked, knowing she was limited in her own wardrobe to what Jaina would be able to wear comfortably.

"Oh yes. Tanner came by for a moment while you were out; he gave me a box of Jane's old clothes they hadn't donated away yet, and some money." Jaina said, pointing to a small box by the door Sylvia had not noticed when she had returned home. "He did say you would have to teach me how your money works. It seemed like he was in a rush."

More like he was too nervous to be around the body of his dead sibling, but Sylvia didn't bother to correct Jaina. She had managed to draw the line that Tanner was this world's version of her brother, Tandred, and he probably came to the same conclusion.

It made Sylvia wonder if she had a counterpart in Jaina's life, and, if so, who was she to Jaina?

"Yes, I can do that, but let's get ready first."

They went their separate ways after that. Jaina gathered up the dishes and took them to the kitchen, while Sylvia stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower. Her mind wandered to Jaina's tale as she stood under the running water. Back when Jaina first woke and was under Miranda's care, she didn't believe a word that was being said, as did most people.

But now, after witnessing her powers, seeing her knowledge, and finally getting her story... Even though it sounded like a fictional tale that Jane herself would write to go on to become a bestseller, Sylvia couldn't help but believe it was the truth and nothing but the truth. Jaina could easily prove that her story had truth with a snap of her fingers to summon a plate of sweet rolls or have a nightmare strong enough to put her apartment somewhere in the deep north.

What more could Jaina do that Sylvia did not know about?

Once Sylvia was finished with her routine and dressed, she went back to the living room to wait for Jaina. As she tried to watch a random show on the TV, her eyes darted to the notes that were left out on the table. Curiosity getting to the better of her, Sylvia leaned forward and picked up a couple of them to take a better look.

It seemed to be magical theory based on the children's show they were watching earlier. With the way Jaina's writing flowed, she was certainly someone who dedicated years of her life to research and papers rather than a student just trying to get by. Sylvia couldn't really make heads or tails over it. She set it down and looked at another one; this one seemed to be attempting to draw parallels between her life and Jane's. Arthur Menethil was listed next to Arthas Menethil. Katherine Moore was next to Katherine Proudmoore; as was Tanner to Tandred.

She didn't see her own name, however.

"How do I look?"

Jaina's question startled Sylvia enough that she nearly jumped from her seat. Jaina chuckled as she set the papers down to look up at her.

"You look good," Sylvia said before swallowing, aware of how her eyes fixated just above Jaina's breast where the anchor necklace rested on the skin exposed by the undone buttons of the white blouse Jaina had chosen to wear. 

Realizing she answered before she actually looked, Sylvia gave Jaina a once over. She had picked out a dark blue skirt worn over black leggings. Jaina was also wearing a pair of black knee high lace up boots that Sylvia knew were hers. 

"I used magic to make the boots fit," Jaina admitted. "I'll return them back afterwards."

"No, no, keep them. I never wear them anyway," she admitted. Jaina must have found them stashed in the back of the closet.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, they were in the guest room closet for a reason."

Jaina nodded as Sylvia stood up from the couch, watching how the woman crossed her arms. "Is something wrong?" Sylvia found herself asking as Jaina bit her lip for a moment.

"It's silly, but it feels weird, not wearing armour, or a cloak… I also don't have my staff so I feel especially naked." Jaina looked at Sylvia and narrowed her eyes before the other woman could say anything. "Yes a staff— I don't care much for wands. They don't really complete the look of an archmage."

An archmage, so that was what she was in her world. Yet with whatever magic she had been using, it didn't seem like she could do much. Maybe she needed the staff to help focus her power? That was the common trend with wizards and mages in fantasy books.

It wasn't like they would be able to find whatever magical reagents Jaina needed to make a staff anyway.

"Did Tanner not leave a jacket or a sweater?" Sylvia asked to change the subject. Jaina just shrugged, so either that was a no, or whatever was given didn't complete the look that Jaina was aiming for. "Are you going to be okay like that?"

"The cold doesn't really bother me." Jaina responded. "Perks of being a frost mage , honestly."

No shit.

* * *

Thad found himself returning home with a heavy heart; his outing to the gym did little to sooth him after what he had watched on the television. It seemed that Jane's resurrection was just a topic the media did not want to let go. 

Dropping his gym bag on the floor to be dealt with later, Thad's eyes traveled to the cursed laptop that he now knew recorded Jane's thoughts, wherever she was. Slipping through the kitchen, he grabbed himself a beer before settling down on the couch and opening the cursed laptop. 

There, he saw thoughts of an Anduin and Wrathion as they soundly beat her at a board game she still wasn't familiar with. Then, thoughts of Kalec and Thrall as they helped her learn magic. That made him sit forward, as the writing was Jane repeating everything this Kalec had told her on how to cast a frostbolt.

How Jane was successful several times at casting the spell.

Was magic real wherever Jane currently was? He would have to talk to the woman currently living in Jane's body to get a proper answer, he figured.

Seeing that the thoughts had stopped, signaling that Jane had retired for the night, Thad started to scroll up through the massive text document and then promptly choked on his drink. 

_GO'EL! IT'S GO'EL! MY CHARACTER. HE IS HERE! I CREATED THIS WORLD! I CREATED AZEROTH!_

Thad set the bottle down and stared at the screen, scrolling up and down, reading Jane's description of the man. He then swallowed and leaned back heavily in his seat, eventually running a hand through his hair.

Go'el; son of Durotan and Draka. The character Jane had created to be the hero of her next book was real in that world.

Thad knew about Go'el, of course he did; because Jane based the character off him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lays on my side with my head propped on my hand and my leg in the air*
> 
> hi guys
> 
> guess who was severely depressed all week
> 
> now im not
> 
> prae wrote half of this chapter and made sure that it was lore-correct. she's a badass. i struggled and nearly broke down bc i was getting overwhelmed by trying to write the scene on the dock, but prae took it and fuckin nailed it. can't wait to show yall the next two chapters! ive also got a few wips in the works. two that im definitely gonna finish.

"What's Dalaran like?" Jane asked Kalec as they watched the port city that would get them to Dalaran grow bigger on the horizon. The dragon was still a bit cagey around her, but she had gotten him to open up bit by bit over their days at sea.

“Cold, for one,” Kalec chuckled. “But beautiful. It’s one of the only places on Azeroth where the Horde and the Alliance mingle freely amongst each other— a completely neutral city, run by mages, completely floating in the air. Jaina studied here, once upon a time.”

Jane huffed, crossing her arms at the chill that had been steadily taking over the sea. “I wonder how the people she knew will react to me being, well, me.”

“Well, the only ones who know about your condition in the city are those on the council. Otherwise, we thought it prudent to have you act as though you had amnesia, remember?”

“Right.”

“From this point forward, you’ll be known only as Lady Jaina Proudmoore. Jane Moore doesn’t exist in this world, and never has. Understand?”

She nodded, unconsciously leaning a bit closer to Kalec, not realizing she’d done so until he wrapped an arm around her to share his warmth. “Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”

“I, uh… I wasn’t feeling cold until now,” she admitted, snuggling a bit more into him. “It’s just a lil’ chilly.”

The dragon huffed a small laugh. “That must be a bit of Jaina’s influence leftover. She could wear a cropped top in Icecrown and think it was a cool summer day thanks to her magic.”

“It… it seems like you really liked her.”

“I did,” Kalec whispered, staring into the distance. “I believe you humans call it a whirlwind romance. My search for the stolen Focusing Iris brought me to her doorstep, and, after all those sleepless nights, we just connected.” He rolled his shoulders in a very human-like gesture.

“I was there during the battle before Theramore fell. When we won the battle, I left to chase after the Iris. We didn’t know it was a bomb— I was too late.”

“I don’t think she blames you,” Jane responded immediately. “You couldn’t have known, something like that? It’s sudden and unexpected when you’re the one being bombed.”

“I guess you are right, I pray that you are correct, Jane.”

“It’s  _ Jaina  _ now, Kalec. Remember?”

That brought a wry, sad smile to the dragon’s face. “Of course, Lady Proudmoore. Forgive my transgression.”

“You are forgiven, Sir Kalec.”

The dragon snorted, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, he spoke up. “Perhaps I can give you a tour of the city? It’s been some time since I last stepped foot in it, but it might be good for you to stretch your legs before meeting Kadghar. He can be… a bit much.”

“That sounds awesome,” Jane said with a soft smile, placing her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“We could get you some warmer clothing as well,” he added with a smirk.

“Like a crop top?”

“Absolutely.”

The two of them laughed as the crew hurried around them, preparing the ship to dock. Some part of her wanted to help out, as though there were some instinct buried deep within her that knew a ship better than these men ever could, but she tamped it down, instead watching the smile on Kalec’s face.

Once the ship had fully docked, Kalec helped her off the gangplank as though she were a noble lady— though, if she thought about it, she was now, if she were to fully take on the role of Jaina Proudmoore.

Behind them was Thrall, looking nervously about at the humans and elves who stared openly at him, followed by Anduin and a very sleepy looking Wrathion, then Anduin’s personal guard, who watched Wrathion with disdain. 

Before Kalec could tell them where the airship that would be taking them to Dalaran was, a voice shouted from the end of the docks: “Lady Jaina! How wonderful, I’m right on time!”

Jane and the others whipped their heads towards the voice; a blue robed man with white hair and a bright, gleaming smile strode towards them, two similarly robed people trailing behind him. “Uh… Hi!” Jane called back, cringing inwardly when Kalec shot her a look.

The man jogged the rest of the way to them, his smile growing even bigger as he looked her over, holding her by the shoulders. “Glad to see that you're still in once piece. I do wish I could say the—"

“Jaina, this is Khadgar,” Kalec butt-in before the man could continue down the path he was taking, turning his sharp gaze onto him.

"Ah! Yes! The memory loss!" Khadgar realized just a little too loud for Jane's tastes. "A side effect among others, I see." His eyes glanced up towards Jane's white hair for a moment. "Still, a pity that Rhonin also did not survive. However, his wife, Vereesa Wind-"

“Vereesa? Rhonin? Who—”

“Khadgar, please. If you want to discuss the events of Theramore I believe it is best we do so in Dalaran," Kalec said sternly. "This is an Alliance dock, so I am sure our companion—" he gestured to Thrall. “— would very much like to be on Dalaran's neutral territory as quickly as possible."

"Oh? Yes! Yes of course. How silly of me." Khadgar chuckled as he began to weave magic in his hands and opened up a portal before them with more ease than it took for Jane to summon a frostbolt. "This will be much faster anyway. I'll send someone to come back to fetch your things later. Come along now."

Khadgar was the first into the portal; Jane eyed it suspiciously until Kalec gestured to her to follow. She went next, and wasn't expecting the pull of magic as she was suddenly stepping into a warm purple room. No, parlor would be a correct term for this place. A purple parlor.

There, Jane soon realized; that she wasn't alone; others were in the room, waiting most likely for Khadgar to return with her. She didn't know who the others were, but it seemed that they knew her.

"Uh…. Hello." Jane lamely waved, but only the silver haired woman waved back with a smile as Khadgar took a seat himself. Kalec and the others soon followed through the portal, and some of the mages there immediately stood and bowed when they recognized Anduin was with them.

"Please," Anduin begged weakly. "We're not here for me, we are here for Jaina."

"Yes. A rather curious situation indeed," Khadgar spoke as Jane took a seat next to Kalec. "You recall absolutely nothing, Lady Proudmoore?"

"No. I didn't even know I was a mage until Kalec showed me," Jane admitted. "It was more embarrassing when I met my first night elf if I am being honest.” She chuckled weakly, earning a snort from the only elf in the room. 

"Aethas," the silver haired woman chided.

"This does put us in a predicament." Khadgar sighed. "Vereesa found a keepsake box in Rhonin's desk that contained scrolls of prophecy from his mentor. The late Korialstrasz," Khadgar explained as he reached into his robes and pulled out an aged scroll and offered it to Jane who took it and opened it to read.

_ After the red comes the silver, _

_ She who was golden and bright; _

_ The Proud Lady humbled and bitter, _

_ Shall now turn her thoughts to the fight. _

_ Sapphire to diamond she gleams now, _

_ The Kirin Tor leader who comes, _

_ "Queen" of a kingdom now fallen, _

_ Marching to war's martial drums. _

_ Be ye warned-the tides of war _

_ At last shall break upon the shore.  _

Jane stared at it for a long time, then looked back up at Khadgar. "This, this speaks of Ja- of me. If I hadn't lost my memory." Jane had been told of what had happened to Theramore, of who had done it and why. She felt emotions ripple through her chest and knew that if the real Jaina were here, she would have gone after Garrosh's head, instead of just sitting in a stuffy parlor.

"Yes. Korialstrasz, and, in turn, Rhonin, believed you are the future of the Kirin Tor. That you, Jaina Proudmoore, are meant to be our leader.”

Jane's heart plummeted.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Prae again! Picking up were I left off at Chapter 20!

The drive down to the docks was smooth. Jaina had asked about walking or horses instead, but Sylvia had explained that very few people owned horses for luxury, and that if she did, they wouldn't have really been able to ride them down to the docks anyway. The ride down was already forty minutes by car, so Sylvia didn't even want to think about how long that walk would be.

Once parked, Jaina was quick to get out of the car, her excitement at seeing the docks quickly fading when she saw that it was more of a tourist trap than something functional for shipping and travel. Sylvia quickly moved to her side, daring to place a hand on Jaina's back to no ill response.

“It's certainly not the harbour I was expecting," Jaina said weakly. "I guess living in a world that is a gnome's or goblin's wet dream there isn't much need for ships." She attempted to make a joke, but her heart clearly wasn't there as Sylvia frowned.

"No not really. We still use ships to transport things, but they're ugly things and certainly not the type of boats you'd be used to."

"Metal ships?"

"Yes, ugly things," Sylvia lamented and Jaina giggled in agreement. She smiled then pointed in the direction of the market to the mage; it was a flea market but the farmers' side of it was mostly set up outside under tents. That got a positive reaction out of Jaina, and let Sylvia know that at least she could find some similarities between worlds.

Sylvia suggested that they start inside so they wouldn't have to carry their food purchases around, and Jaina jokingly stated that she could work some minor magic to make it easier. Sylvia shook her head and lingered on that statement for a moment.

"You know," Sylvia started as they walked closer to the entrance of the covered market. "If you make your magic appear to be like cheap illusions, people will be more accepting. They'll just see it as a street performance."

"You mean the type of magic that street buskers perform for children?" Sylvia nodde. Jaina looked down at her own hands for a moment. This told Sylvia that that type of magic existed in Jaina's world, but was frowned upon by archmages such as herself.

"So something like..." Jaina did a couple gestures with her hands and then seemingly pulled an origami style flower from nothing. If Sylvia didn't know better, she would have easily believed that came from a fake thumb or whatever it was those performers used.

"Exactly,” Sylvia said. Jaina chuckled

"Easy enough, pulling a rabbit from a hat is a simple teleportation spell. I wouldn't be able to do that on a whim, however," she quickly added. "That requires setup."

"So where did the flower come from?"

"From the side table next to the bed you are letting me use," Jaina explained as she opened a small tear in the air in front of Sylvia and tossed the flower back in before closing it. "I can only do small portals like that without my staff. Anything bigger without it or proper knowledge of the leylines it will be—"

"Disastrous?" Sylvia supplied. She nodded. Sylvia had no idea what a leyline was, but it sounded magical, so Jaina obviously knew what she was talking about.

"Yes, teleporting purchased goods home I can do, but I wouldn't risk people or animals unless I have a way to focus my magic properly. We can replace a roast if it gets sheared in half, but a human? Not so much."

"Well, we can just carry our purchases to my car like everyone else," said Sylvia as she opened the door for Jaina. The mage's eyes were already darting back and forth among all the colourful stalls. "If we have to take a couple trips it's not the end of the world."

Her comment went mostly ignored as Jaina was already drawn to the first stall: a small chocolate factory that had been a staple to the market for as long as Sylvia could remember. If she was to be honest with herself, she spent more time watching Jaina's child-like joy rather than inspecting some of the goods that were for sale. 

After some struggle with money on Jaina's part, she had proudly made her first purchase of several pieces of fudge. Sylvia was positive it was a small piece of every flavor, enough to put someone into a sugar coma if they ate it all. Still, she smiled as she and Jaina exited the shop to start browsing the other stalls. Jaina offered different pieces to share as she sampled it all.

Halfway through their walk, long after Jaina had used Sylvia's small crossbody bag to discreetly teleport the leftover fudge home into the refrigerator so they wouldn't melt, they came across a leather working shop in the heart of the market. Most of it was for hobbyists, but Sylvia knew that the owner also sold things for roleplayers as well. 

Jaina took to it immediately. Probably another taste of home.

This time Sylvia took the time to look around; she knew from experience that a leather belt from a place like this would last much longer than any other belt purchased from a fashion outlet. It was always curious to see what new things the owner had made from her last visit as she walked up and down the rather cluttered aisles. She eventually ended up where all the buckles were kept on display and one caught her eye the same way that the necklace did, prompting her to scoop it up right away.

"Sylvia! I want your opinion on something!" Jaina's voice cut through the otherwise quiet shop. With a hum to herself, Sylvia moved to the other side of the shop where Jaina was with one of the workers. The woman with vibrant coloured hair smiled as Jaina held up a brown leather belt that had a couple leather pouches attached to it. The belt itself was cut in such a way that it got a little thicker where the pouches were, giving it all a rather unique style.

Sylvia looked at the item for a while, then Jaina's excited face, and finally at the sales associate that had an expression on her face that clearly said that she thought she knew who she was helping. Of course, Jaina was none the wiser. 

"What's the question Jaina?" Sylvia asked, putting emphasis on the name, smiling when she saw the expression on the clerk's face change.

"I haven't seen anyone wear something like this while we've been shopping,” Jaina started. Sylvia quickly realized the question.

"Honestly," Sylvia cut in before Jaina could go off on a tangent. "If it is a style you like and you feel comfortable wearing it, damn what the public thinks and rock it." That was the answer Jaina was looking for as she tried on the item in question. Yes, it did look a little out of place with Jaina's chosen clothing of the blouse and skirt, yet it seemed perfectly fitting at the same time.

"I'll be at the cash register if you have any more questions," the sales associate said in that usual high pitched 'customer service voice' before leaving to return to her post. Sylvia frowned at the woman's back before returning her attention to Jaina, who was back at the shelf looking at different colours of the same belt she had originally chosen.

"Anything else catch your eye?" Sylvia asked when she noticed Jaina had moved on to look at other items, still wearing her future purchase.

"One, but I'm not sure," Jaina trailed off looking, towards the back of the store.

"Show me,” she said with a smile.

Jaina led Sylvia to the back of the shop; Sylvia recognized that this was the little corner that a small costume making company rented out to sell their costume pieces to mostly cosplay or roleplayers. There, on one of the racks, was a selection of cloaks. Sylvia saw one of the mannequins wearing a combination of clothing and leather sold around the store that created a rather striking picture.

Sylvia lost herself for a moment trying to imagine Jaina wearing something like that; cloak, staff and even that white hair she spoke of. Immediately her mind painted that image for her. Archmage Jaina Proudmoore was as beautiful as she was powerful, a great staff on her back as she controlled winter with her hands. 

A moment later her mind jumped to the final page of Liam's comic; the blonde princess now replaced with a white haired archmage. Sylvia soon realized that she had the urge to kiss Jaina right there and now. 

"Sylvia?" Jaina's voice cut through the sudden daydream. She quickly blinked and looked at Jaina, who was standing before her, smiling in a way that said,  _ I've called your name a couple times now. _

"Yes, sorry," Sylvia mumbled before looking at the blue wool cloak Jaina had tried on. It had a leather buckle across the collarbone to keep it in place and it matched the belt that Jaina had also chosen. Jaina did a small twirl in it before turning to look at the full length mirror that was provided so customers could try things on. 

Sylvia swallowed at the sight, Jaina was beautiful. 

"Too much?" Jaina asked weakly and Sylvia shook her head.

"No, it's still missing something. May I?" Jaina nodded. Sylvia stepped forward and undid the buckle that kept the cloak in place; after that, she took the buckle she had picked off the shelf earlier and slid it into place on the other side, using the provided strap to snap it in place and pushing the hook into one of the holes before buckling back up. "There, that's better."

Jaina looked in the mirror to see that Sylvia had placed a decorative buckle on the cloak that depicted an anchor. Jaina just stared at Sylvia for a moment and the woman smiled brightly. "Now you're starting to look like the Lady of Theramore."

Jaina quickly spun around, throwing her arms around Sylvia in a tight hug and burying her face in the crook of the woman's neck.

"Thank you," Jaina whispered. Sylvia returned the hug, her nose pressing against the mage's air. A new scent mixed in with her shampoo— could that be Jaina's magic?

* * *

"Hey Thad, what's up?" came Tanner's voice after two rings. Thad paused for a moment, trying to figure out to start what will definitely be an awkward phone call.

"Hey Tan. I— I figured something out that I think you and Katherine would want to know," Thad decided to start. "It has to do with the laptop, and Jane, and I know this will sound super crazy." He added as he scrolled through the lines where Chromie was helping Jane figure out parallels between the worlds.

"I am scared to ask, but what is it?" Tanner asked as Thad set his bottle of beer down on the table.

"The laptop, what it's been writing. It's Jane's thoughts. She and Jaina, they traded places! Jaina is Jane from a different world!"

There was a long pause

"Like some sort of Freaky Friday?!" he asked a bit incredulously.

"Yes! Exactly!" Thad exclaimed. "It's all here! Jane met someone named Thrall, who is me! Then there is someone called Kalec." Thad continued as he leaned forward. "Who could be Kaleb! Yet the big thing is her family! Jaina's family! The Proudmoores!"

“And you think, they are us, the Moores,” Tanner muttered. “I— I need time to process this, if this is actually true.”

“I'm going to message Syliva later about meeting Jaina, I’ll let you know more if I can.”

"Please do," Tanner muttered, sounding overwhelmed. "I don't think my mother can handle this much longer. If she finds out that Jaina is still technically Jane, it might be enough.”

"Of course."

* * *

They settled on Sailor's Pie for dinner. Sylvia had little idea of what the contents of the pie was until Jaina started talking to the local fisherman for the catch of the day. That is when Sylvia realized that since the woman grew up in places that relied on fishing to survive, it would only make sense that their food would reflect it.

She didn't want to tell Jaina that she had a strong distaste for fish; she hated the smell it made when cooked, and that was usually enough to turn her stomach against the meal. If she was elsewhere and didn't have to smell the dish as it cooked, she would be able to enjoy the dish, most of the time.

So that was how Sylvia ended up sitting at the kitchen counter as Jaina familiarized herself with how a kitchen of this world functioned. It was mostly the oven that confused her. Sylvia suggested that she could look up the common bake times and temperatures of meat pies and they would work from there.

When Jaina had started cooking the fish for the pie filling, Sylvia finally caved and admitted her dislike of the smell of cooking fish, even with the window opened. Jaina chuckled and admitted that since she was so used to living seaside that she had become nose-blind to the smell. With a quick spell, the smell of cooking fish was eliminated, and Sylvia felt a little less queasy.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Sylvia asked as she watched Jaina chop up the potatoes rather nicely.

"My chamberlain, Aegwynn," Jaina said softly. "I was a rather hopeless cook, even after all the time I spent in the field during the war." Jaina smiled, probably at the memory. "Shortly after, she volunteered herself to be my new chamberlain, she decided I needed to know how to cook before I withered away to nothing!"

Sylvia wondered if Aegwynn had to do with all the fresh jerky Jaina had also purchased and now kept a handful of in one of her belt pouches. Sylvia watched idly as Jaina dumped the potatoes into the pot of whatever fishy concoction she was making with a combination of manual labour and magic. Jaina went through the patterns of wiping down the counter and using a spell to make sure it was dry before laying down some flour. 

They kept talking as Jaina worked. Sylvia learned a little bit more about Anduin, her unofficial nephew, along with more about Aegwynn and how she continued to teach Jaina long after her apprenticeship under the late Archmage Antonidas had finished.

Sylvia kept watching as Jaina then poured the filling into a cast iron skillet and placed the pastry on top to make the crust. She completed her finishing touches before placing it in the oven to bake. The moment Jaina turned around to give Sylvia her full attention, she got a fistful of flour in the face. 

"Sylvia!" Jaina sputtered as she tried to wipe the flour from her face to get a good look at her grinning host. "By the Tides! What was that for?!"

Sylvia shrugged— she didn't have a good response if she was being honest; she just felt a bit mischevious. Jaina was quick to return the favour, dousing Sylvia with just as much if not more flour.

"Oh, it is on Proudmoore."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

By the time they were finished, laughter was still echoing off the walls and flour coated every surface. The two of them sat side by side with their backs against the cupboard doors.

"Next time, we'll have an actual snowball fight." Sylvia chuckled as she rested her head back slightly. "Won't be as messy."

"I'd say it would be unwise to challenge me to a snowball fight,” Jaina boasted as she turned to look at Sylvia. "I wouldn't play fair."

"Then you're on my team then," Sylvia waved her off in turn. Jaina laughed before leaning forward to place a kiss on Sylvia's cheek. As she pulled away slowly, Sylvia turned to face her properly, and their eyes finally met.

"Just tell me to stop,” Jaina whispered as she reached forward, taking Sylvia by the chin and pressing their lips together.

To Sylvia, it was soft lips, fireworks, and flour.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, if u didnt happen to read alone on winter veil, ive been unable to get my medication/fighting my insurance to get my testosterone refilled, so ive been unable to really do anything, much less write. i was struck by the sudden to just write, and this popped out. this obviously isn't up to canon code, but we're not completely following canon here. chapter 24 will be posted either later today or tomorrow. also, thank yall so much for 3k views!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you have no idea how much that encourages me

“If I support this coup of yours… You’ll promise not to go after Proudmoore?”

Vol’jin’s eyes flickered up from his spear to Sylvanas’s, confusion on his face, his hands pausing in their sharpening. It was the first emotion the strange troll showed throughout their entire conversation— they were openly discussing killing the warchief of the Horde, surrounded by Vol’jin’s closest allies, all of whom could easily betray them. 

“And why do ya ask that?” he questioned, a sly smile curling around his tusks. “Does the Dark Lady have a lil’ crush on the mage?”

Sylvanas sneered down at him. “I simply wish to break her with my own hands.”

The troll let out a deep, bubbling laugh, smacking his knee. “Course ya do. Yet, rumor has it your majesty has… What do they call it? A soul—?”

Before Vol’jin could finish, Sylvanas was pressing a dagger to his neck, ignoring the spears that threatened to dig themselves into her flesh. The troll still smiled, showing no fear.

“If you want my support, _Vol’jin Darkspear,_ you would do well not to anger me,” she snarled, drawing a bit of blood from his neck. Then, she drew back, licking up the blood from her dagger as she stared down at him. The other trolls backed away, spears and swords still drawn, waiting for their chief to give them the go ahead to kill her. Not like they would get a chance before she could let out a scream.

“I hear ya, Dark Lady. You make me the warchief, and I’ll protect ya girl. Hell, I’ll make sure you get a kiss in,” he added with a wink, chortling.

Gods help her, this rumor about her and Proudmoore would be the true death of her. “Fine. You have my support. When do you plan on… going forward with this plan of yours?”

“Soon,” said the troll, returning to sharpening the weapon in his lap, his smile gone. “From what my spies have told me, he aims to track down the High King’s son and hold him hostage. The boy has been traveling quite a bit lately, with that mage of yours, and Thrall, surprisingly enough. I doubt he’ll be on the ship that goes after the kid, but the plan is to help the kid get away for now. I want Garrosh angry, making mistakes. I want to show the Horde that he’s not the infallible leader he makes himself out to be, and spread the seeds of dissent before swooping in.”

“Are you not going to attempt a mak’gora? The orcs may take more kindly to your ascension that way.” 

He shook his head. “I do not wish for a repeat of what happened to ol’ Cairne. I have no heir, and my people would be in complete disarray if I died just yet. The infighting would only strengthen Garrosh. Besides, I’m no match for him.”

“A coward’s answer, some would say, but a smart one nonetheless,” she murmured, turning her head to the side.

Vol’jin smirked. “You should go now, Dark Lady… I’ve been hearing the warchief has been keeping you on a short leash, after that lil’ disappearing stunt you pulled.”

She knew when to swallow her pride, at the very least, even if her ability to do so had weakened in recent years. “Very well then. I will await your next correspondence.” Sylvanas turned on her heel, exiting the tent and returning to the rangers she had brought with her, who stood watch at the gates of the Darkspear village. 

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her still lungs, her dead heart beating so hard in her chest she was sure it would break a rib. She stumbled and fell to the ground, the world spinning around her as her rangers immediately circled around her, shielding her from curious eyes.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” Nathanos’s arms wrapped under her arms and hefted her to her feet, allowing her to feel just how much her body was trembling. “The troll did nothing to harm you, did he?”

She opened her mouth to speak, only to choke and vomit up black ichor. What was happening to her?! Neither Vol’jin nor any of his trolls had actually touched her— could it have been the blood she had tasted on her dagger? No, if he was sick, she would have been able to tell. And it certainly wasn’t airborne, otherwise her rangers would have been falling sick as well.

Sylvanas clung to Nathanos’s breastplate as though her unlife depended on it, feeling herself tremble uncontrollably as he barked orders and carried her to the closest witch doctor.

* * *

Jane had absolutely no idea where she was.

Well, she technically did. She was on the dirty floor of an alleyway in Dalaran, puking her guts out. She’d run out of council chambers somehow and into the city, pushing past humans and other strange beings on her way. When the panic had reached a peak, her stomach roiled, and she'd ducked into the alley to avoid throwing up on anyone.

Once her stomach was emptied of both lunch and breakfast, she rolled to the side and sat against a large crate that occupied the alley, curling in on herself. Tears rolled down her eyes as she cried over the life she had lost— for her friends, her family, for Arthur… She didn’t want to be in this world, as interesting and beautiful as it was. She couldn’t lead an entire city— she could barely take care of herself sometimes!

“Ah! There you are!” a small voice cried from the front of the alleyway. “I’d heard you were in town, but you ran off so fast I could barely keep up!”

Jane lifted her head to look at the owner of the voice— a gnome— at least, that’s what she assumed he was— in purple robes, not unlike the ones she’d seen around the city, with a massive wizard’s hat, unruly grey beard, and kind eyes that poked out from between it all, despite looking like a wizard from a kid’s book. “I’m sorry… I’m not who you think I am,” Jane muttered, wiping her eyes with a sniffle.

“Nonsense, you’re Lady Proudmoore!” the gnome crowed, waddling towards her and sitting at her side. “We’ve met, don’t you remember? When you took my daughter on as your apprentice?”

“I…” Jane paused, staring down at the man in growing awe as she realized something she hadn’t before. “I… I do! Kinndy! How do I know that name?!”

“Right, I’d heard you got a nasty knock on your head from Khadgar,” the gnome muttered to himself, stroking his beard. “Kinndy Sparkshine is my daughter. You took her to Theramore to train her in the arcane, remember?”

She nodded, mouth agape. “She— she used to talk about you! Your name is Windle, and you’re in charge of lighting the lamps at nine o’clock in Dalaran!”

“That’s correct!” Windle smiled, taking her hand. “I’m glad you were able to remember me! I was hoping to know if Kinndy was on that ship with you— but, judging by your reaction, she wasn’t.”

Jane shook her head. “I’m so sorry— nobody even mentioned her to me. I have no idea who even survived… I might be the only one.”

Despite the uncertainty of his daughter’s life, Windle continued to smile as he stood up. “That’s not your fault, Lady Proudmoore. You can’t see into the future. But I want you to come see something that I think you’ll like.”

Jane nodded and stood up, the trembling far less than it was before, and followed Windle out into the street. They stopped in front of a lamp post as Windle pulled a wand from a pocket in his robes, making an intricate motion with it before a ray of glittering yellow energy shot out of it. It hit the lamp like a firework, raining down sparkles down on them, and a pair of figures appeared on top.

Right before her eyes was a hologram of Jaina and Kinndy sitting on the edge of the lamp, the latter holding a giant book in her hands as the former read over her shoulder, making motions as though she were teaching the little gnome girl something from the book.

“I’ve been projecting images like these ever since I took on this job— usually it’s been things to help make people happy, but, since Theramore… I’ve been projecting pictures of Kinndy. In hopes that someone will recognize her— and, if not, well…” Windle wiped a tear away. “It’s a good way to keep her memory alive.”

“It’s beautiful, Windle,” she whispered, her eyes blurry with the tears that ran down her face. “She would have loved it.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thad encounters Jaina Proudmoore and learns that this woman is nothing like Jane Moore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prae here! Figured this one should go out before 2021! Happy New Year!
> 
> P.S. I need ideas for drunken bar activities. Outside karaoke and darts.

"Nathan! My favorite friend!" Sylvia purred into her phone as she leaned on the railing of her balcony. "How have you been?!"

"What did you break now?" Nathan's gruff voice answered over the line. Sylvia rolled her eyes; even though he couldn't see her, he knew what she had done. "You only phone me when you break something. Or do we finally get to hide the body?"

"No, Arthur still breathes, unfortunately," Sylvia sighed into her phone. "There is a reason why I am calling. I want to know if you and the boys can make something, but I also need a secret kept. I'm sending you photos now." She pulled her phone from her ear long enough to send him photos of Jaina's paperwork. She heard Nathan's grunt when he opened them on his end. "Can you and the boys make it?"

"Yes, but the time to print and the size of the-"

"None of that plastic costume crap. Metal and wood," Sylvia interrupted. "I want it to be as genuine as if we pulled it straight out of Kinreth itself. I'll worry about the costs."

"Sylv—"

"Can your team do it?"

"Yes, it will just take some time. I expect Barlow will want to experiment with different methods. I'll forward the sketches and get started on some 3D mockups. Who is this for?"

"Lady Jaina Proudmoore."

* * *

Thad found himself drumming his fingers nervously against the table as he waited for Sylvia to reply to his message about meeting her and Jaina. Eventually Sylvia messaged him back, saying Jaina agreed to meet him if they did it somewhere public. Thad then suggested their usual haunt: a well loved pub that got loud enough on game or karaoke nights that they wouldn't really be interrupted.

He was already halfway through his first drink and a plate of buffalo wings when he saw Sylvia walk in with Jane. No, he reminded himself, Jaina. Jaina, who was wearing a navy blue cloak instead of a coat to keep herself warm. Sylvia spotted him and waved; he waved back, but kept his attention on Jaina as they navigated through the rather tight pub.

Jane was someone who didn't care much for her appearance, outside of pantsuits, or simple dresses for public appearances, or the odd gown for anything formal for Arthur's sake. So to see Jane's body wearing tight fitting jeans with a low cut shirt that displayed a silver anchor on her skin above her breasts and even wearing make-up told Thad that this woman was definitely not Jane Moore.

"Thad! Good to see you!" Sylvia shouted as she neared the table. Thad smiled as he stood up, clapping his hand together with Sylvia's in a good strong shake. "Jaina, this is Thad. He's a good friend of mine, and was extremely close with Jane as well."

"It's nice to meet you." Jaina smiled as she had removed her cloak and set it on the back of her chair. She then reached her hand out to shake Thad's as well, but he wasn't expecting it to be just as strong as Sylvia's!

Thad grinned back at Jaina and decided it was time to try out his theory before they got drinking and eating. "Actually, I think you already know me," he started, seeing that spark of curiosity in Jaina's eyes. "In your world. I believe you know me as Thrall, son of Durotan and Draka."

There was silence at the table. Sylvia squinting at him in visible confusion while Jaina seemed to be going through a quick list of different emotions. "What makes you think that?" Sylvia asked in Jaina's silence.

"I think we need a round of drinks and wings first before I tell the truth," Thad said as he offered the menu to Jaina. "It's a little bit crazy."

"Not really," Jaina spoke up after a moment, picking a wing off Thad's plate to give it a try. "I know Tanner is my brother, Tandred. Then there is the situation with Arthur being my ex-lover, Arthas." Thad found himself relieved to hear Jaina call her Arthur an ex. "What would be crazy is how you figured it out."

"Drinks first then," Sylvia declared as she waved a waiter over. "Figure out what you want to drink." She pointed at the menu in Jaina's hands. Thad watched how Jaina's brow furrowed when she started to read the menu while Sylvia ordered a surplus of food and a pitcher of beer.

Jane had never been much of a drinker; Thad knew that from experience. Every so often she would get wine drunk when she was somewhere safe, but in public it was always something small just to match the crowd. Arthur had always been that controlling with her, never wanting her to get drunk and do “something stupid”.

So, Thad figured when the waiter asked Jaina what she wanted to drink, if she was anything like Jane, she would simply ask for a glass of red wine and a pitcher of water.

"Anything for you?" the waiter asked Jaina, who was still staring at the drink menu in utter bewilderment. Eventually, she just sat it down and looked at the man.

"A tankard of your most popular stout," Jaina said, so confidently that had Sylvia and Thad looking at each other in surprise and the waiter looking a little confused.

"Is a glass okay?" he asked hesitantly. Jaina just smiled.

"Of course. I also want to try this deep fried platter." She pointed at a picture on the menu. The waiter quickly wrote it all down before rushing off.

"You drink?" Thad found himself asking before he could stop himself. Jaina just lifted an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"I would be a mighty poor Kul’Tiran if I didn't," Jaina said as she took another chicken wing. "I might have spent over half my life on the mainland, but there are some things that will always be in your blood. Mine just happens to be salt water and a good daily ration of rum." She winked at Sylvia who smirked in return.

"So you spent your childhood on an island?" Thad asked as he finished off his previously ordered beer. "You wouldn't have said mainland otherwise." He noted the expression of surprise on Sylvia's face; she must have assumed Jaina just grew up in a port city like Jane did. 

"Yes. Kul’Tiras is an island nation made up of three provinces— my family is the leading house, so we pass the title of Lord Admiral down through the generations."

They were interrupted briefly for the waiter to return with drinks setting the pitcher down between Thad and Sylvia along with three glasses. Jaina looked at her own drink with curiosity before taking a tentative sip, eyes lighting up when she discovered she quite enjoyed it.

Thad waited until the waiter was gone, then asked, "So who is to be the next Lord Admiral?"

"My brother," Jaina sighed. "My departure from Kul’Tiras when I was young, among other things make it hard for me to remain in line."

"Other things— like Theramore?" Syliva asked. Jaina just sipped at her own drink before setting it down, her hand still wrapped tightly around the glass.

"Yes, Theramore. For years, I did what I thought was the right thing— even if it meant cutting ties to Kul’Tiras. Then that Light damned Garrosh Hellscream happened!" Jaina suddenly cut herself off as she banged her fist against the table, Thad jumping when frost suddenly shot out across the varnished wood.

Magic! It was real! He stared in astonishment as the frost quickly melted and Sylvia mopped it up with a napkin. "Jaina," Sylvia admonished gently while the woman held onto her glass tightly. 

"If I was still on Azeroth, I would be looking for a way to put Garrosh's head on a pike for what he did to Theramore," Jaina muttered darkly before downing half her drink. Sylvia and Thad looked at each other, both coming to the same conclusion.

Garret Heffernan was Garrosh Hellscream.

The waiter had returned shortly after with the order of more wings, nachos, and the deep fried platter. Syliva loaded her plate up with nachos while Jaina seemed to take a sample of everything. "We have food and drink," Sylvia started after a couple chips, looking over at Thad. "How did you figure out your counterpart?"

Thad sighed and refilled his beer glass. He placed a few chicken wings on his own plate, then started his tale about the second hand laptop that once belonged to Jane Moore. By the time he was finished, ending with Jane meeting Thrall somewhere in Azeroth, Sylvia looked completely confused, while Jaina seemed to be a little bit happier at the news.

"It's good that Chromie is trying to help," Jaina smiled as she poured herself a fresh glass of beer from the pitcher. "If anyone can figure out what has happened with the timelines, it will be the Bronze Dragonflight."

"Jane also said that she has magical power in Azeroth. Did you retain any of that power?" Thad asked. He didn't want to assume with the burst of frost he had seen; instead he just watched as Jaina downed her entire pint glass like it was water.

"All of it," she stated after slamming the empty glass down. "But without my staff it's harder to focus my power here." Thad watched as Jaina tried a mozzarella stick and obviously enjoyed it as she reached for a second. She then refilled her glass again forcing Sylvia to order another pitcher. "This stuff is piss, by the way."

Sylvia just looked insulted. "Then why are you drinking it?!" she snapped.

Jaina just gave her a look that Thad translated as  _ 'even bad beer is good when it's free' _ . Sylvia also seemed to understand that expression, because she immediately chugged her glass so she would match Jaina's count of finished drinks.

"Oh no," Thad groaned. He knew that look as the two women stared at each other. Jaina was probably familiar with bar fights and drinking contests.

"This won't get me drunk," Jaina declared, pointing at the ale with a confident smirk. "I'll drink you both under."

Thad immediately raised his hands in surrender, taking Sylvia on was one thing but taking Jaina on seemed like something he had no interest in for the sake of his liver. Sylvia however seemed to think that she could rise to that challenge as she stood up to wave the waiter over, however the poor soul knew exactly what this regular was asking for.

Thad watched as the water came over with a bottle of bottom shelf rum and two shot glasses. Sylvia happily took them and set the other glass in front of Jaina. 

"You're going down Proudmoore." Sylvia grinned as she filled the glass, matching Jaina’s own confidence.

"You'll soon realize your mistake in challenging a Kul’Tiran,  _ mainlander _ ." Jaina grinned back with a heavier hint of her accent as she downed the first shot.

Thad sunk in his seat. This was going to be a long night.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up its been a while. i got a full time job so updates may not be as frequent.

“Lady Proudmoore!” a guard cried, rushing up to her and Windle. “There you are! The archmage sent us to find you!”

Jane shook herself out of her reverie and gave the guard a wry smile. “I’m very sorry for inconveniencing you like that. I’m ready to return.” She turned to Windle and curtsied, as she expected Jaina would have done in her place. “Thank you, Mr. Sparkshine. I desperately needed this.”

Windle grinned up at her under his massive beard. “As did I, Lady Proudmoore. I wish you only the best in your travels.”

With a nod to the guard, Jane followed him back to the tower she’d escaped from, gazing out at the city with new eyes. The world felt less strange now— like something in her had shifted, and she felt like she… not quite belonged, but fit in just a little more. She could see herself exploring these very streets as a younger woman, her eyes alight with wonder even after the years went by.

Khadgar and Kalec stood outside the tower, the former wearing a worried frown. The guard deposited her without a word, bowing to the three of them before running off. For a moment, they stood in silence, and guilt filled Jane’s stomach as Khadgar looked her over.

“I… have been told that I do not have the full story,” he began, measuring out each word. “If you would allow me, Lady Proudmoore, I would like to learn it.

Jane glanced at Kalec, who gave her a resolute nod. “There’s not gonna be any food involved, is there? I’d rather not vomit again.”

“No, no… not until after, if you so wish it. I’d like to comb through your memories through magic.”

* * *

“I’m  _ fine, _ ” Sylvanas snarled at the witch doctor, wrenching her arm away from the probing woman. “I just…”

“Had a panic attack?” Nathanos finished, crossing his arms. “My queen, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but in all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve never once panicked, even in the midst of battle.”

“This was no panic attack!” she snapped, her head spinning towards him. The witch doctor took her chance then, stabbing her with a needle to draw out the ichor inside her. She hissed in pain, but allowed it nonetheless.

Nathanos raised a brow. “Then what do you call what happened? There must be a reason.”

“I… don’t know. I think it was my scar.”

He worried his beard with his fingers for a moment. “I worry about you, my queen. You’ve been acting strangely, and I do not wish for you to be hurt because of it.”

The troll pulled away the bowl and cleaned the wound, making to wrap it with a bandage before Sylvanas waved her away. The woman opened her mouth to protest, possibly citing infection, but then closed her mouth and shook her head, moving to a nearby table to work whatever magic she expected to.

“I… admit, things have… changed—”

Nathanos snorted. She gave him a look and continued on.

“— but they will not affect my plans. Whatever is happening to me, I will find a way to stop it.”

The witch doctor chuckled at that, and the two of them whipped their heads towards her. “I don’t usually practice blood magic, your majesty, but I know when it’s truly needed. You found your soulmate,”

Sylvanas hissed as Nathanos’s mouth fell open. “You can tell that just from a bit of blood?!” he cried, standing up straight with his arms at his side.

“It’s a lil’ more complicated than that, but yes, I can,” the woman preened. She turned towards them, bowl in hand, her other hand hovering over it as blood and arcane swirled together in a dazzling dance. “Elves are simple like that— soul bonds, I’ve heard them be called. It occurs naturally in all elves, thanks to their lil’ wells. It connects them to Azeroth, to the people they will one day know and love. According to my teacher, sometimes they can occur when a soul has entered the world— like how the orcs passed through the gate, once upon a time. When the soul you’re bonded to experiences an extremely intense emotion— like a panic attack, in this case— it’s possible, though extremely rare, for your partner to feel its effects.”

Sylvanas knew this, of course, but her ears pricked up at the last part.  _ When a soul has entered the world. _ That same heat settled in her stomach as she thought about Proudmoore, the one she had all but pushed out, but she ignored it as she remembered their last meeting. She said nothing, however, ruminating on her thoughts, and how the other woman had no recollection of her.

“I— I can’t believe this!” Nathanos cried, stumbling for words. “We are Forsaken! Undead! How can the Sunwell still work on her if she is not under its influence?”

The troll shrugged. “I am a smart woman, but the loa are strange in their dealings. Perhaps they are simply having fun with your queen.”

“ _ Enough _ ,” Sylvanas commanded, stopping Nathanos just as he opened his mouth to talk back. “What I wish to know is how to sever this connection.”

“Oh, your majesty,” the troll grinned, cutting off her magic and placing the bowl back on the table. “Unless she moves on the other side, there ain’t no escapin’ what the loas got planned for ya.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slip of the tongue and family reunions start small.

"There’s something on your mind, isn't there?" Katherine asked as she set her fork down; Tanner was never good at hiding his thoughts, and something was clearly eating away at him. Even with his sigh of defeat, Katherine knew that he would tell her what was bothering him. 

"Thad called me today," Tanner started after a moment of silence. Katherine looked up at him, surprised. "He discovered something about Jane and called me first. His entire theory seems crazy, but if everything went well, he's probably meeting Sylvia and uh, Jaina. Right now."

"And what is his theory?" Katherine asked incredulously, moving her own hand away from her wine glass as Tanner squirmed in his seat. 

"That Jaina Proudmoore is from a different dimension and that she and Jane swapped places in the explosion," Tanner blurted out.

"A different dimension? Do you think of me as a fool?" Katherine snapped, balling her hand into a fist. Tanner shook his head.

"No! No! Of course not! I think this whole thing is silly too," Tanner replied quickly. "Thad strongly believes that wherever Jaina thinks she is from, we also exist there. When we met briefly, she did mistake me for someone called Tandred, so I think there is some truth."

Katherine was silent as Tanner swallowed before continuing. "Thad wanted to meet Jaina to see if this theory was correct— that if he introduced himself to her as someone she knew in ' _ her world _ ', it might be easier to connect with her." Tanner knew that he wasn't telling Katherine everything that Thad had told him, but some of the truth needed to be omitted for Katherine to even give Jaina a chance.

"I know you miss her, I do too. I think we need to give Jaina a chance. If her own friends are willing to go the distance, then how can we call ourselves her family?"

"But she's not—"

"She's a Proudmoore, and I think that is the most pride a Moore could ever have."

* * *

_ "Drink! Drink! DRINK!" _

The bar erupted in a roar as Jaina set down her empty shot glass on the table, a bold smirk playing across her features while Sylvia glared daggers, picking up her own freshly refilled glass and downed it to match Jaina's number.

The crowd roared again while Thad sunk deeper in his seat out of embarrassment. Usually this was past the point where Sylvia would be crowned victor in this terrible game, but Jaina was still going strong, having easily out-drank Jane's limit two times over by now.

"Ye calling it quits already Windrunner?!" Jaina shouted as she refilled her glass once more. About two thirds into this contest Jaina had definitely hit the level of drunk where she was starting to confuse this reality and her own and getting her friends' names wrong, but neither had the heart to correct her.

Thad watched in horror as Jaina downed the shot and slammed the glass on the table. Sylvia gritting her own teeth before she ultimately decided enough was enough and surrendered the game. The bar broke out in raucous cheers as the undefeatable Sylvia Wynde was finally dethroned.

"You have to say, she got you good." Thad handed Sylvia a glass of water while Jaina celebrated with another glass of stout from one of the patrons. Both women would be nursing terrible hangovers the following morning, but Jaina had easily proven her sailor roots that Jane did not have.

"I bet she's cheating," Sylvia nearly slurred as she polished off the water and picked at what was left of the nachos.

"She's called you Sylvanas Windrunner several times already, and just calls me Thrall now. She's drunk, but still functional." Thad pointed out as Jaina had her arms around the shoulders of a couple patrons, sailors, Thad summarized from the anchor tattoos on their arms as they belted out the words to 'Drunken Sailor' so loudly that it eventually had half the bar following them in chorus.

Sylvia perked up at that, blinking as she stared at her water glass in a drunken haze before abruptly standing up muttering that she needed to use the ladies room. Thad remained in his seat, watching as Jaina seemingly commanded this bar full of people in an impromptu Sea Shanty Karaoke Night. No one seemed to recognize her as Jane Moore, although a few had their phones out to take photos and record what was going on.

He could go and question them, but if they actually didn't know, it would cause more problems than solve them. Although, a giant banner duct taped to the wall three times over that read  _ Happy 40th Birthday Walter!  _ told him that people were probably filming because it was their friend's birthday party.

"So, who is Sylvanas?" Sylvia asked Thad when she sat back down beside him. Jaina was still singing with the sailors as they took turns leading different songs. "If you know about Thrall, then you must know about Sylvanas."

"Not really," Thad admitted. "Jane has only met her once and her thoughts were rather muddled. Jaina's mother, Katherine Proudmoore, accused Sylvanas of being an assassin and then did something that caused Jane's thoughts to turn into ramble; after that Jane never met her again. I think, to learn more about this Sylvanas, you'll have to ask Jaina."

That made Sylvia pause, taking the time to study Jaina as she enjoyed herself. She also took the moment to reflect this seemingly whirlwind romance she was finding herself caught up in with Jaina. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't want to know about Sylvanas Windrunner right now.

Jaina must have noticed Sylvia was thinking about her, because she broke away from the group with a massive smile on her face as she grabbed Sylvia's wrist to pull her away from Thad. The woman stared up at her, confused, as Jaina just smiled brightly at her.

"Oh, a beautiful girl wouldn't do us any harm!" she belted out to have the sailors repeat her in the background as she tugged Sylvia up onto her feet. "Oh, a beautiful girl wouldn't do us any harm."

"And we'll all hang on behind!" the men chanted in the background as Jaina just seemed to take everything about Sylvia in. Her eyes roamed across her body, and Sylvia suddenly felt very much on the spot as the sailors rolled into the rest of the shanty. She just kept her attention on Jaina, who eventually just placed her hand on the back of Sylvia's neck and pulled her in for a kiss in front of everyone.

Not learning of Sylvanas wouldn't do her any harm, Sylvia figured as she lost herself to the kiss in the middle of the pub. Not learning of Sylvanas wouldn't do her any harm.

_ And we'll all hang on behind! _ ****

* * *

**_Messages from Thad_ **

_ 0113: Tan I know this is either super late or super early.  _

_ 0114: The three of us are going for breakfast at 1000 at Fil's _

_ 0114: Sylvia will be hungover as fuck, but you need to meet Jaina _

_ 0115: Jaina, she's nothing like Jane _

_ 0116: I think you'll like her _

* * *

"You're a witch."

"Wizard, actually."

Sylvia looked up from her cheap diner coffee in an attempt to give the mage the best hungover glare that she could, but failed specaturally when she found herself squinting in the morning sunlight. Thad was the one to ask the next question.

"Wizard? But isn't that the—"

"If I have to hear ' _ only men can be wizards _ ', I will scream," Jaina grumbled as she stabbed her breakfast sausage before lifting it up to take a bite out of it. She swallowed, then made a face before she spoke in a mocking tone in an attempt to imitate an old man.

" _ It is no more women's nature to become wizards that it is a dog's nature to compose an aria _ ," Jaina said, before rolling her eyes and drinking her coffee. "For fuck's sake."

"Now that's something to walk into." Jaina looked up in surprise when a blonde man slipped into the booth next to Sylvia. "Sylvia Wynde completely hungover and dogs making arias?"

"Tanner! You made it!" Thad exclaimed happily as Tanner shrugged out of his jacket. "You should have been there last night— Jaina absolutely decimated Sylvia in a drinking contest!"

"Jaina did?" Tanner asked, confused and bewildered as he looked at the woman who was inhabiting his late sister's body. Without Thad's texts, and at a quick glance, he wouldn't have even realized that this woman before him was once Jane Moore. Her blonde hair was tied back in a fishtail braid, and she wore her form fitting clothing with an air of comfort and confidence that Jane never had with her own body.

The anchor necklace was also a nice touch, in Tanner's opinion. Even though it was common for a Moore to serve in the navy for several years, not every one of them did. Maybe Jaina had served in her world while Jane had not?

"Please, you could barely call that water alcohol." Jaina rolled her eyes. "Now if it was a contest on taking shots of Anchor's Drop!" She barked a laugh. "That would have had me on the floor after half of what I had last night!"

"The Proudmoores are a noble family of sailors," Thad explained quickly for Tanner. "I assume Jaina has been drinking rum since she was old enough to hold a cup!" He joked, but Jaina just smiled in a way that told both men that it was probably close to the truth.

"So, who was the asshole that compared you to a dog writing music?" Sylvia asked to pick up the previously interrupted conversation. Tanner half glanced at the menu, but he already knew what he wanted, so he kept his attention on Jaina.

"My teacher, Archmage Antonidas," Jaina admitted. "At first he didn't want me to be his apprentice because I’m a woman." She rolled her eyes. “It was extremely hypocritical of him, but he eventually saw sense and took me on. He was the best, sure, but I worked my ass off to be there. I  _ wanted  _ to be there."

Tanner found himself confused, half listening when the waitress had come to take his order. Archmages? What were they talking about? He found himself asking, "What's an archmage?" before even realizing he was speaking, then immediately mentally smacked himself. He knew  _ what _ an Archmage was; he just didn't know why Jaina was speaking like she  _ trained _ under one.

"You of all people should know what an archmage is," Sylvia responded dryly. "How long have you been a Dungeon Master for?" Tanner drank deeply from his coffee mug, glancing away for a moment.

"What I meant to say is, why are you talking like you're some fantasy book character? A mage?"

"Because I am a mage?" Jaina said softly, with an air of confusion. Tanner narrowed his eyes and watched as she flicked her wrist and, suddenly, the water in Thad's cup rose up into the air. It took the form of what Tanner could only describe as an  _ elemental  _ and looked around at those at the table. Jaina was giving them a know-it-all smile as the elemental turned and dabbed at Tanner before disappearing into the cup just in time for the waitress to arrive with his food.

"What."

"That's impressive!" Thad bellowed with laughter as he banged his fist against the table. "What else can you do?!"

"A lot." Jaina smirked as she lifted her coffee mug. Tanner then noticed that it was still steaming while the others had cooled off by now. "Everything I have done so far is just simply party tricks— I'm honestly a little nervous to try anything large because I don't have my staff with me. I am still surprised that I can bind small elementals, so there are some similarities between this world and my own."

"But?" Thad questioned.

"But the theory is a work in progress from what I've seen off the television and around me." Jaina shrugged. "I would need to get to a library and research the history of this world before I can come up with a proper hypothesis."

Now that was the Jane that Tanner was familiar with— the two of them did share similar traits after all. He drummed his fingers on his cup for a moment then came up with an idea.

"Hey Jaina." He started and caught her attention immediately. "I'll make you a deal, if you'll tell me some stories from your world and let me use them in my D&D game, I'll take you to the library or museums— anywhere you need to go to work on your theory."

Jaina fell silent, her eyes darting to Sylvia for seemingly permission. Tanner figured it was because Sylvia was acting as her keeper in this strange new world. Sylvia leaned back and eventually agreed. "I can stock up on food and sleep off this hangover while you're gone."

Jaina smiled brightly as she looked at Tanner with a child-like joy. "I would love to go to your museums."

* * *

Thad was still smiling brightly when he sat down on his couch that afternoon, Jane’s laptop in his lap. After opening it, he took the chance and plugged his phone to it, and was happy to see that the laptop let him pull up a folder of photos he had taken the previous night and that morning. Jaina was, of course, the focus of most of them.

From there he turned his attention to the document. There he could see that Jane had been speaking with someone named Khadgar earlier and now was mostly on her own exploring the city of Dalaran. He hesitated for a moment before typing out a hello to Jane to let her know that he was there.

_ Thad? Oh wow, it's been a while I forgot you could talk to me like this. How have you been? _

_ I've been good, _ Thad typed back with a smile.  _ Actually I just got back from a night out with Jaina. _

That caught Jane's attention, her thoughts suddenly racing a mile a minute with just as many questions. Thad couldn't help but laugh as he scrolled through the photos of Jaina, pausing on the one he snapped when he caught her kissing Sylvia that morning after they had gotten dressed for breakfast.

_ She's really fun! Drank Sylvia under the table and then kept drinking. _

_ She did what?! _

_ I still have a hard time believing it too! Even Tanner couldn't believe that he was seeing a hungover Sylvia when he met us for breakfast! He's with Jaina now actually. He offered to take her to some of the museums. I think they started with the War Museum because he gets in there for free. _

_ How typical of him.  _ Jane was laughing.  _ That one is his favourite. _

Thad went on to tell Jane about his night with Jaina: the drinking, the singing, the magic. He decided not to mention anything about Jaina being romantically involved with Sylvia, not yet. Even all of Jane's thoughts and comments were positive, as if she was truly happy that Jaina was finding herself at home here in this world.

_ I want to try something. Close your eyes for a moment? _

_ Okay. _

Thad then selected a photo from the folder, one he had snapped on the shoreline near the diner after breakfast before parting ways for the day. Jaina had succumbed to peer pressure and showed off her magic a little bit more to her full potential. It was a shot that captured Jaina in the moment, showing her showboating her spellcasting and her comfort in Jane's body all at once.

He uploaded the photo into the document.

And Jane gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: A Drop of Nelson's Blood/Roll the Old Chariot


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to post this lol

The first thing that struck her was how  _ confident  _ Jaina looked. Even though Jane knew she could be considered attractive, she’d never allowed herself to stray far from her pantsuits and other prudish outfits. In every picture she was in, she wore an awkward grimace, even when she attempted to smile, uncomfortable at having her existence confirmed beyond her books. She had always preferred to let Arthur be the flashy one in his expensive suits and well-coiffed hair, letting herself be the afterthought, if she was remembered at all.

But not Jaina. Even in a single picture, she could tell Jaina was the sort of person who made her presence known, to draw all eyes to her whether she realized it or not. Christ, Jane never even knew she could get the sort of cleavage Jaina was showing off! It was like she was looking at a completely different person!

Tears began to sting at Jane’s eyes, which she quickly wiped away with the sleeve of her dress. Jaina was becoming the person she’d always wanted to be: confident, sexy, and proud to be alive and noticed.

_ Jane? You alright?  _

Right. Thad could read her thoughts.

_ I’ll be fine,  _ she responded, sniffling.  _ Can we talk later? It’s getting a little late here. _

_ Of course. I’ll try not to keep you waiting so long between our talks, if I can help it. _

_ Thanks, Thad. _

No robotic thoughts entered her head after that. She was alone again. Well, as alone as one could be with a guard standing nearby, watching her as she leaned against one of the safety railings, granting her a nice view of the setting sun. She’d told Khadgar to give her some time to prepare for their ritual mentally, which would occur noon tomorrow, and he acquiesced, so long as she brought a guard with her. One of the night elves that had accompanied her on the ship volunteered immediately, no doubt wanting an audience with the illustrious Jaina Proudmoore. She felt kind of bad for ignoring the woman, and, needing someone to lean on, she turned to her.

“Excuse me, guard? Can I ask you a question?”

The guard stiffened at the attention, if such a feat were even possible with how stiff she already was. “Yes, my lady?”

“What was J— what was I like? Before all this… nonsense with my memory, I mean,” she added with a wave of her hand.

“What do you wish to know exactly, my lady?”

“I want your honest opinion. What did you think of me?”

The guard shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve only heard of you, my lady, but they say you are the greatest mage of our time— even greater than Antonidas, your teacher, himself.”

Jane felt her entire body sag with the burden of what she’d said. She’d never be anything like the original.

The elf stepped forward after a moment of silence, placing her hand on Jane’s arm awkwardly. “I did not know you before the destruction of your city, my lady, but… you seem like a wonderful woman. The Sunwell has chosen well to pair you with my queen—”

The woman’s mouth clamped shut, her eyes almost bulging out of her head with how wide they’d grown. Jane had only a moment to process what she’d said before her body sprung into action— she bounced backwards and shot her arm out, encasing the elf in a block of ice up to her neck.

“Who the fuck are you?!” she cried, magic swirling at the tips of her fingers. “Who sent you?!”

The elf clenched her jaw so hard Jane thought she might crack her teeth as a strange magic coursing down her body as her glamour was revealed. She looked like…  _ her. _

“Did that woman send you? The banshee? What does she want with me?!” Jane demanded, surprised to find her voice didn’t waver in the slightest.

“Let me go,” the strange elf grunted out, locking her cold dead eyes on her own, “and I’ll tell you everything,  _ Proudmoore.  _ I’m of better use to you alive than dead.”

“Or… I could leave you here and get the guards, and we can do this the  _ hard  _ way,” she found herself saying, the ice creeping around the elf’s head.

“I’ll be gone before you can even find— urgh!” With the slightest shift of her fingers, the ice tomb began to sharpen into points on the inside— not enough to kill, but enough to discomfort.

“Release me,” the elf continued, desperation creeping into her voice, “and the Dark Lady will be able to tell you everything you want to know!”

The ice shattered and the elf fell to the ground, gasping for breaths she did not need. Immediately, Jane grabbed her by the back of her hair, lifting her head up to force the woman to look at her directly. “You’d best not be lying to me.”

“I swear to you, Proudmoore, I do not lie. I will tell you everything you want to know within my power.” A hand snaked up to her neck, clasping the dull gem of a necklace that sat upon the breast of her armor. “ _ I promise. _ ”

* * *

“My lady!” Nathanos whispered, pulling Sylvanas aside just as they were about to make their way back to the portal that had been prepared for them. “Anya has been compromised. What color should I return in reply?”

Sylvanas shut her eyes and exhaled through her nose. She’d been found out faster than she thought she would. “Yellow and green. Be cautious, but give Proudmoore what she wants. She’s not to pull out unless she is in absolute danger. While you return to the Undercity, I will make my way to Dalaran personally.”

“Are you sure that is wise? Your presence may cause a stir in the city, regardless of the armistice, should someone discover you. I would prefer we not have a repeat of the Mage’s Bane incident.”

“I will send word ahead and go without a disguise. I will also send a missive to our  _ honorable  _ warchief and tell him I am simply asking Dalaran for permission to raise their dead. We could use more mages in our ranks; I’m sure he will agree.”

“Of course, my lady. Al diel shala.” Nathanos and the rest of her entourage stepped into the portal, casting worried glances back at her as they disappeared.

_ What a goddamn mess this was turning into. _

* * *

Of all the ways she expected this day to go, Anya did not expect to be sitting across from the illustrious Jaina Proudmoore herself outside a cafe, watching enviously as the other woman stirred a cup of tea. After she convinced the mage she meant no harm, she’d released her from her tomb, allowed her to reapply her glamour, and dragged her there, claiming to need something to calm her down. Now, she sat there, staring at a spot on the ground as she stirred her cup gently.

Anya was not the best at dealing with people— she preferred the wilds over the city, something her queen knew well, and constantly pushed her to expand her comfort zone. There was no doubt that her queen had chosen her for this permission to do just that, but why entrust her with something so important as watching her soulbond? She had to have known she would have fucked it up if Proudmoore so much as spoke to her—

“You look like you have a lot on your mind, too.”

Anya jumped, finding her under the intense scrutiny of arcane blue eyes. She squirmed as she gathered her thoughts, lips pursed. “Yes. I have failed in my mission.”

Proudmoore raised a brow. “Mission?”

“To watch you from a distance.”

She hummed, taking a sip of her tea. It must not have been to her satisfaction, as she pulled a face and immediately added two cubes of sugar, then set back to stirring. “For the… Banshee Queen?”

“Yes. The Dark Lady, as she is sometimes known.”

“Her name is Sylvanas, right? Sylvanas Windrunner?”

“Yes, Lady Proudmoore.”

“Jane.”

“Huh?”

“Just call me Jane. None of this formal ‘lady’ B.S.”

Anya blinked. What a common name, unbefitting of a lady of her station. “Alright, Jane. You wished to know more of my lady?”

She nodded. “And what she wants with me.”

“Anar'alah belore, where do I even begin?” Anya exhaled a hard breath. “The Dark Lady contains multitudes, to put it plainly. She has been alive longer for far longer than I have, and died some time before I was raised into her service alongside my lord, Nathanos Blightcaller…”

Anya set into the tale of her queen, dead eyes lighting up with joy as she regaled Jane with all that she knew. She’d actually studied quite a bit about the Windrunners while alive, and her interest in them had not waned even in death. Jane let her rant for as long as she wished, chiming in with the occasional question, her frown deepening the more she heard.

“She… seems like quite the person,” she stated plainly after Anya had finally finished. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“I…” Anya squirmed, glancing around. “What do you know of the Sunwell?”

“Not much. It keeps the blood elves alive, I guess?”

“It’s much more than that, but I suppose that could be one way to say it. Anyways, the Sunwell connects us to all beings of Azeroth through the arcane, like… like strings!” She pulled at her necklace, twisting it around to show the knot that connected the two strings. “Imagine that these are two separate strings— two separate people. One of the many things the Sunwell does is bind two— or more, as is often the case— people together for all eternity. Their souls are literally connected, even in death!”

“Like… soulmates?”

Anya nodded eagerly. “We call them soulbonds. Sometimes, though, the bond can become so strong that the bondmates' emotions can be felt through the other— say, if you are in incredible distress, my queen would feel your distress as well! We call this phenomenon alor’el, but I’ve only heard of it in stories; I never thought it could happen in real life!”

“Fascinating…” Jane whispered, her tea all but forgotten as she leaned forward. “But… I don’t think I’ve actually  _ felt  _ Sylvanas’s emotions. Is it possible that it’s one-sided?”

The elf shook her head. “Impossible. Soulbonds, though they must be maintained and nurtured by the bondmates themselves, don’t happen unless they can be requited, lest they break. And I’ve been told that those with non-elven mates can’t feel the full extent of their bond unless they are in close proximity to their bondmate.”

Jane touched her neck, swallowing hard. “I… I see. That definitely tracks.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Should I leave the tip, or would you like to?”

“A… tip?”

“To tell the waiter I was happy with their service? Do you guys not tip here?”

The elf tilted her head, confused. “That’s a very strange way to show appreciation.”

Jane sighed again and stood, smoothing out her dress. “Nevermind. Can you bring me back to where I’ll be staying tonight, Anya? I assume you want to keep up your disguise, for appearance’s sake.”

“Yes, my lady.” She stood up and took to her side, back ramrod straight once more. “Would you like to take a more scenic route? You seem like you have a lot on your mind.”

“I would, thank you.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To convince Katherine Moore of the truth about her daughter, all one must do is tell her the story about the Golden Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raiding Castle Nathria several times a week can be taxing. Especially if they only taunt the bosses know is 'scum'

The Moore family home was not what Jaina was expecting, though, in all honesty, she didn't know what to expect. There was no way that the Moores had lived in a place much like Proudmoore Keep in a city that was still beyond her comprehension at times.

Her visit to the War Museum with Tanner had taught her several things about this world; even if it was entirely focused on war, it was still fascinating; she was already planning a second visit and would bring something to take notes on. Tanner had suggested they plan dates to hit up the other ones as well; the 'Science and Technology Museum' was extremely high up on her list.

Now, they had returned home— not to Sylvia's apartment, but Jane's childhood home. Tanner still lived there with Katherine so she would not grow lonely, and, to Jaina's understanding, Tanner was the only one left to inherit the heritage home when the time came. When Tanner walked up to the front door, he made a gesture for Jaina to stay quiet. The mage was aware that Katherine was still skeptical about Jane now being Jaina, and Tanner didn't want to ambush her.

"We're going straight to the basement, just follow me," Tanner told her. "I haven't told mother that I was bringing you home."

"I can cast us an invisibility spell," Jaina offered. Tanner looked excited at the idea, but shook his head no.

"There’s no need, Mother rarely bothers me down there; if we're quick and quiet she'll never know you're here," Tanner replied, and Jaina reluctantly accepted. He opened the door, slipping inside after her, taking off their shoes and leaving them on the mats by the doors.

"Follow me," Tanner whispered before he darted towards the other side of the massive home. He wished he could give Jaina a proper tour; while the outside of the home was extremely old the inside was new and modern, having been renovated constantly to keep up with the changing times.

"One of the guest rooms down here," he explained as he led them to the basement stairs. "I renovated it into a hobby room since we stopped having guests stay in the basement about twenty years ago."

He opened the door in question, and, for a brief moment, Jaina thought she was teleported back home to Kul Tiras. The wood panels on the walls, the solid wood furniture, and even all the decorations reminded her of home.

"Is that...?" Jaina made her way over to the green and gold tapestry on the wall. She knew the Proudmoore anchor anywhere, prompting her to grasp at her own necklace.

"Jane saw it in a dream once. She drew it out and, when I remade this room, I had that commissioned. Why? What does it mean?"

"This is the crest of House Proudmoore," Jaina murmured, playing with the curve of the bottom of the anchor. "These exact tapestries fly in the city of Boralus and decorate my family home. How did she see this in a dream? If we're supposed to be the same person, why have I never dreamed of here?"

"Maybe it’s because you’re a mage?" Tanner offered as he pulled out some of his D&D books. "You must have had training to protect your mind."

"It is one of the first things novice mages are taught." Jaina admitted with a slight smile. "You are probably right. Do you have any other record of her dreams?"

"Loads. Parts of her novel series are actually based on her dreams, but she never told that to the public. I think that is how Thad figured out that he would be... Thrall, I think his name is? In your world?"

"And you're my younger brother, Tandred." Tanner looked thrilled at that. "I haven't seen him in a few years."

"That's fine! In the world you live in, it's not like you can just hop on a plane and visit for a week! I do bet he misses you dearly." Tanner was back going through his bookshelf, eventually picking out a worn out book. He didn't see the pained expression on Jaina's face at the thoughts of home and her younger brother.

"Yes, if it were only so simple," Jaina sighed, turning when Tanner nudged her with an open bottle of beer and a book in his hand.

"This is Jane's last idea book." She took both items and sat down at the large table in the center of the room. Tanner then opened a wooden cabinet to reveal it was actually a refrigerator disguised to match the room to pull himself out a bottle of beer as well. "She was suffering from writer's block right up until—" he paused. "But the dreams kept coming, so she kept taking notes and drawing."

Jaina stared at him for a moment, then decided to start from the back, at the most recent, or final, notes Jane had made before she went to Azeroth. The sketch one the last page made her pause. She knew that armour— there wasn't a single person who didn't— yet the rough colours told her that Jane had seen this person during a different time.

"This," Jaina pointed at the drawn picture, "is Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner of Quel'thalas. Jane must have dreamt of her during a time before she became the Banshee Queen."

Jaina then had a ripple of realization run down her spine. 

She had called Sylvia Wynde Sylvanas Windrunner last night. 

She had fallen for this world's version of the Banshee  Queen.

* * *

"Tanner? A package just arrived for you," Katherine said softly at the closed door of her son's hobby room. She stood there for a moment, holding the cardboard box in her hands, to no response.

Yet, she heard Tanner's laughter, he must have had his headphones on and didn't hear her. How typical. She placed her hand on the doorknob but paused when Tanner shouted. "You didn't!"

"I did!" The female voice had Katherine pause; Tanner rarely brought women home without a group of friends. She could only guess why. "It was embarrassing! I had just torn through her wards with a herd of thunder lizards like it was nothing, and, instead of apologizing, I started  _ fangirling. _ It was terrible! Terrible!"

"Okay, but if I accidently broke into my favorite celebrity's home without realizing it, I would have probably done the same."

"You're not helping my case!"

"But she took you on as a student afterwards, didn't she?" Tanner shot back. The woman laughed.

"Worse! She volunteered to be my chamberlain after I had killed Kristoff, my  _ old  _ chamberlain, after he tried to betray me to demons! Demons!"

Demons. They must have been playing one of his one-shot stories then, Katherine summarized as she opened the door. Usually, she had an idea of what to expect when she interrupted one of Tanner's sessions, but this was not it. Instead, it was Tanner and a woman that felt familiar, but could not immediately recognize, having a rather animated discussion with his game books and papers strewn about with a few empty beer bottles as well.

Both of them froze. The blonde woman stared at her like a deer in the headlights as she stood in the doorway with Tanner's mail in her hands. 

"Who's this?" Katherine found herself asking, staring at the woman dressed in blues and whites. Tanner was quick to stand, banging his legs against the table at the same time.

"Mother! This, this is uh—"

"Jaina Proudmoore," Jaina spoke up quickly as she too stood up with much more grace than Tanner did. "We met briefly before, Lady Moore."

"Impossible," Katherine spat as she set down the box on the table to free her hands. Jane had always carried an air of uncertainty around her, and the woman before her had none of that! It was easier to believe that Jane had simply lost her memories than that there was a  _ different person _ inhabiting Jane's body. 

"I trust my own mother would have the same reaction if and when she meets your daughter," Jaina responded firmly. "Katherine Proudmoore always had a sharp eye when it came to her children, and I see that you also share the same trait."

"Mother please, just give—" Tanner was cut off when Katherine raised her hand, staring daggers at Jaina at the same time."

"Who is your father?" she asked. Jaina looked pained for a second.

"The late Daelin Proudmoore, who was Grand Admiral of the Alliance and Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras," Jaina replied, her voice sharp as if she was addressing a world leader herself. "My older brother was Derek Proudmoore, killed in action during the Second War, and my younger brother is Tandred Proudmoore, and, to my knowledge, the current heir to the Proudmoore Admiralty."

Katherine stepped forward to the table, a hand on a chair as she peered over the books and papers. Some of this was Tanner's gaming material, others were Jane's old idea books that he had insisted on keeping. Then, there were notes in a beautiful handwriting she had never seen before. It was a list of names, names she knew next to names that looked familiar. "Who is Arthas Menethil?"

"A very long story," Jaina murmured. Katherine sat down at the table and gestured for both Jaina and Tanner to do the same.

"Thankfully, we all have the time," Katherine said in a tone that made Tanner shiver. "Tanner, be a dear and order us some dinner. If the story is as long as Jaina claims it to be, I am sure we'll be famished halfway through."

"Oh, of course mother," Tanner stammered. "Any suggestions?" Katherine gestured at Jaina to recommend something.

"I'm partial to seafood." Tanner nodded, taking out his phone to start ordering, clearly already having an idea. Katherine then turned her attention fully to Jaina, the mage sighing in defeat as she began to tell the tale of Lorderon's golden prince.

By the time food had arrived, Katherine could not believe what she was hearing and seeing. Tanner had cleared off the table and given Jaina access to his miniatures; with magic, genuine magic, Jaina had transformed some of the models to look like the people she spoke about, moving them about to reenact scenes.

Katherine herself couldn't help but realize that the more and more Jaina spoke, the more that she believed what everyone else was saying: that Jaina was simply just Jane from another world, from this place called Azeroth. The model of Archmage Antonidas looked strikingly familiar to Jane's favourite university professor, and Tanner had commented that the model of Arthas was exactly how he would have envisioned Arthur to be a paladin.

"He ordered us to burn the town." Jaina's voice snapped Katherine out of her momentary reprieve and Tanner stared across the table with his fork halfway to his mouth. Suddenly, the image Katherine had in her head of Jaina as Queen and Arthas as King was shattered.

"He did what?" Katherine whispered hoarsely, unable to believe what Jaina had said. Arthur was such a sweet boy! There was absolutely no way that he, even his paladin counterpart, would do such a thing! When Jaina confirmed exactly what she had said earlier, Katherine felt her heart sink.

"That's not even the worst of what he did," Jaina said in a near whisper. "After I left him, he burned the town, slaughtering everyone, and then continued his mad crusade to the north."

Katherine set her fork down as Jaina used her magic again. The air eventually crystallized into ice and a wicked looking sword appeared before them. Jaina then spoke of Frostmourne, an evil sword that Arthas had quested for in a mad grasp of power to save his kingdom.

Tanner asked if Arthas was successful in his quest, and Jaina told him yes, but Lordaeron would not be saved by their prince's hand. Arthas would return home only to kill his father and slaughter his people. Jaina would tell them how she rallied the survivors and, with aid of the Kul Tiran fleet, sailed across the ocean to found Theramore.

"That's not the entire story, is it dear?" Katherine asked after a long silence, their plates nearly finished. Jaina sighed as she dismissed her magic, the sword before them disappearing.

"The story is long. He did much more evil than simply killing his father, but I don't think I can tell the rest of it now," Jaina admitted, curling in on herself.

"You should make it into a book series," Tanner said after a moment of silence. Both women did a double take. "Look, Jaina, you've lived through things people can only imagine. You've met ageless Guardians! You've fought demons! Hell, your evil ex-boyfriend even became an ultimate big bad! Jane already dreamt of your world, I still have her notes. I'll help you!"

"I must agree with him, Jane— Jaina," Katherine spoke up, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "Deliver them your story as Jane's next series, and then you can spend your life however you want; the media will no longer bother you. If you do manage to find your way back home, then, I think Jane herself would appreciate the assistance in her series."

"I don't know the first thing about writing a story," Jaina began, before a gentle, nervous smile graced her features. "But I think I can learn."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to prae as always for being an incredible help <3 remember to comment if you enjoy this fic!
> 
> fixed jaina and sylvanas not knowing each other from icc

“There you are!” Thrall said, smiling down at Jane as she approached, Anya trailing behind her. “I was hoping I could speak to you before the ritual tomorrow.”

Jane nodded wearily, thanking Anya for the tea and dismissing her. The elf bowed to the both of them, making her way inside the keep; Jane vaguely wondered if she would be writing a report, like the spies in her books often did. “What did you want to talk about?”

Thrall’s smile had waned at her dour mood, concern etched into his face. “Is everything alright? You seem tired.”

“I… I’m just hungry, I suppose. I had some tea and a biscuit at a cafe, but it didn’t really fill me.”

He nodded solemnly. “Would you like me to get you something from the kitchen? You can meet me in the library, and we can talk there.”

“That’d be nice, thank you.” She stepped into the keep with Thrall, her eyes fixed on the ground as she made her way to the library that had been pointed out to her earlier. If Thrall noticed the way she was acting, he said nothing, murmuring a, “be right back,” before parting for the kitchen.

On any other occasion, Jane would have been excited to see the library. It was something like out of her dreams, filled from top to bottom with tome after ancient tome. Today, though, she felt drained. With the reveal of Anya, the truth about the woman who’d tried to attack her, and the upcoming ritual, the reality of the situation she was in began to weigh on her even more. She’d always wanted to live an adventurous life, but this was turning out to be far too adventurous…

Jane jumped when a plate was gently set in front of her; she’d been sitting quietly for a few minutes, she’d realized, staring forlornly at the wood of the table she was at without really seeing it. Her stomach growled at the smell wafting towards her nose, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she began eating. Thrall watched her quietly, his arms crossed on his chest. At the front of the library, near an oddly placed fireplace, Anduin and Wrathion had taken up residence at a table and were playing a board game, arguing quietly with each other over the rules, their eyes occasionally glancing towards them. An orc and human woman stood by the doorway, arms crossed as they watched the boys.

“How was it?” Thrall asked, one hand playing with a braid.

“The food? It’s wonderful, thank you.”

He chuckled. “No, your world, I mean. What was it like? What do you miss about it? Do you think Jaina’s doing well there?”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know she was alive?”

“Your reaction told me,” he said with a shrug and smirk. “How’s she doing?”

Jane slumped back in her chair. “Wonderfully, I think. Based on what my friend Thad told me, she’s taken really well to my world. She’s incredibly happy.”

“Does that make you jealous?”

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “... No. I’m happy for her. All that I’ve been told about her makes her seem like a wonderful person— a wonderful mage, a wonderful friend… just wonderful to be around.”

Thrall pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“All my life, I wished I could be adventurous, to be like her, but now that I have the chance, I feel like I’m squandering it! I should be spending more time with you and Kalec, learning more about magic, more about this world! I should be getting to know her family! What if Derek and Tanner are in this world, alive and well? Shouldn’t I be on the first boat to Kul’Tiras, heading to meet them? Katherine and I have been writing to each other, sure, but there’s so much more I want to know about her, too! And— and my fiance! Arthur! What if he’s here, too? There’s no way someone as important as him to me wouldn’t also be important to Jaina!”

Jane gasped for breath, slumping in her seat, as Thrall stared at her, bewildered. Across the room, Anduin and Wrathion’s argument had escalated to stage whispering, Wrathion’s more draconic features, such as his horns, coming out. If Anduin was alarmed by the change in his new friend, he gave no tell, keeping his glare level with the other’s.

“You haven’t been here for more than a few weeks, at best,” Thrall said quietly, placing his hand on hers and squeezing gently. “There’s still time for you to adjust.”

Jane stared down at their hands— Thrall’s completely enveloped hers in warmth, the calluses of his hand rubbing against the back of hers. Her heart fluttered for a moment, and a warmth rose to her cheeks. Noticing this, Thrall pulled away and coughed awkwardly.

“Jane, Arth—” 

A screech sounded out as Wrathion, now in full whelp form, launched himself across the table at Anduin’s face, spewing little bursts of flame as the older boy tugged his tail, yelling incoherently. The women at the door looked at each other and rolled their eyes, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Should we be stopping them?” Thrall murmured, watching the scene unfold with her.

“I’m sure they’re fine. Besides, the guards are closer,” Jane replied, her face breaking into a sad smile. The boys were just like Andy and Wassim; close like brothers, and constantly getting into arguments just like this.

The two of them sat in silence as Thrall tried to figure out what he wished to say, the quiet broken only by the screeching of draconic and the yelling of the young prince. Soon enough, Wrathion had changed back to his human form, punned by Anduin, forced to admit that he had, in fact, cheated in their game. When the prince released him, laughter burbled from them, bringing tears to Jane’s eyes, which she quickly wiped away. 

“Thank you, Thrall,” she murmured, sitting up a bit straighter. “It was nice to talk about that.”

“Oh. Of course, Jane. If you need anything tonight, my room is right across from yours.”

She nodded, standing up just as a servant burst into the library, nearly smacking the orc guard in the face with the door. “Ah, there you are! My lady, the archmage requests your presence in the front hall! There’s someone waiting for you there.”

The servant hurried away, not noticing the two boys sprawled on the floor, panting for breath. “Well,” Anduin piped up, rolling off of Wrathion. “I think we had best go see who it is.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Thrall murmured, taking her finished plate. “I’m going to return this to the kitchen, then meet you there.”

Jane nodded, standing up and moving to help the boys to their feet. Wrathion grumbled to himself as he got to his feet, though a good-natured smile betrayed his annoyed tone. Together, they hurried to the main hall, not wanting to keep their guest waiting.

“Ah, there she is,” said Khadgar as the group entered. He stepped to the side, waving his arm to present his guest. “Jaina, this is…”

“ _ You!”  _ she gasped, stopping in her tracks so quickly that Wrathion ran into her and fell on his ass. “You’re that woman from before!”

“Why, how nice of you to remember me, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas Windrunner purred, watching her as a predator might watch a prey. “And here I’d been told you might not remember me, despite our time in Icecrown!”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvia learns of the Banshee Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than usual, I had a rough creativity block this week.

It was a quiet afternoon and Sylvia couldn't ask for anything more. She and Jaina laid on her couch with a blanket draped over them as they watched a documentary series about sunken ships from World War II; Jaina was far more invested in the series than Sylvia was, but the mage was still riding off the high from her museum visit during the previous day.

Sylvia closed her eyes and nestled a little closer to Jaina. She was currently being the big spoon, so Jaina had the better view of the screen, but it also helped that Sylvia had little interest in old sunken warships. Jaina chuckled softly when she felt Sylvia move behind her, her hand moving to cover Sylvia's and holding it just a little too tightly, as if Jaina herself was trying to reassure herself about something. It made Sylvia wonder if it was the same thing that had been plaguing her mind since Jaina's slip of the tongue that night in the bar.

"Can I ask you something?" Sylvia asked suddenly and softly. Jaina reached for the remote and paused the show. "It has to do with the name you called me the other night."

Jaina immediately stiffened in Sylvia's hold. She waited in silence and, eventually, the mage rolled so they were facing each other.

"I have to keep reminding myself that you are not her," Jaina muttered. "That what we currently have is okay."

"Did she hurt you?" Sylvia asked, already angered at the idea that this Sylvanas Windrunner would dare hurt Jaina. Thad had mentioned that Sylvanas was accused of being an assassin sent to take Jane's life.

"No, never directly. Her story is twisted at best, but she is one of the leaders of the Horde, and it was the Horde that attacked and destroyed my city." Saying those words obviously pained Jaina, and all Sylvia could do was brush some of that blonde hair back. 

"Was she there when it happened?" Sylvia asked softly, watching as Jaina paused to think, to remember something that she wasn't sure if she wanted to forget or not.

"No," Jaina finally admitted. "Neither she nor her people were part of the forces that assaulted the gates of Theramore." She shifted and buried her face in Sylvia's shoulders. "There might have been a Forsaken ship or two, but…"

"A token force to prove loyalty to the Horde, but a sign to show distaste for the plan. She was against the idea of killing you and your people." Jaina did not move for a fair moment. "You said that this was all Garrosh, was it not?"

"If Garrosh was not Warchief, Theramore would still have an alliance with Thrall's Horde. We had both fought in the Third War, together with the Night Elves. Sure, we had some hiccups along the way but we made it work," Jaina muttered against Sylvia. "Instead he decided that that _madman_ was a better fit than him."

Sylvia simply rubbed at Jaina's back; she wanted to know more about Sylvanas, if Jaina was willing, so having her rant about Garrosh was not the way to go about it. She thought for a moment, then eventually asked, "Have you worked with her before? When Thrall was Warchief, I mean."

Jaina was silent for a long while, eventually wiggling her way out of Sylvia's arms to get off the couch so she could pace the room. Sylvia herself sat up; she had no desire to push Jaina to speak of more than she was comfortable with, and it seemed that Sylvanas alone was making her uncomfortable.

"She's the Banshee Queen." Jaina spoke so softly that she almost didn’t hear her. "Arthas… Arthur… went down a path that neither myself or his mentor, Uther, could stop him from. Arthas killed his father, killed Uther, and then he committed genocide on the High Elves. I have been told that Sylvanas was among the last line of defence against him."

"Jaina, you don't have to tell me any of this," Sylvia interrupted, but the mage shook her head.

"No, if I am going to write this, I need to be able to speak about it." Jaina's voice wavered as she crossed her arms to hug herself, so Sylvia slowly stood back up and pulled Jaina into a hug. After another long moment Jaina began to tell Sylvia what she knew,the story pieced together from what she had heard from the survivors who made Theramore their home.

Then, she moved onto the Northrend Campaign against the Lich King. Of what the Forsaken who were willing to speak to her shared. How, for a brief moment, she wished that the Banshee Queen had reached out to Theramore, before going to the Horde, for families could have been reunited.

They were back to sitting on the couch, a fresh pot of coffee made, as Jaina simply clasped the mug in her hands. "The first time we truly interacted and worked together was when we encountered each other in the Frozen Halls of Icecrown Citadel. Turns out we both happened to have the same idea, and assaulted the citadel at the same time."

Sylvia was just as invested as Jaina was as the story was told, about how she and Sylvanas came to an agreement that they needed to work together despite their reasons why they were there were different. Sylvanas wanted to find a way to kill the Lich King, while Jaina herself wanted to wake Arthas up, convinced that he was being controlled by the Lich King and break him free. Jaina told her of how they worked their way through the Soul Forges and the Pit of Saron before finding Frostmourne in the Halls of Reflection.

"Neither of us got what we wanted that day; Sylvanas couldn't find a way to turn Frostmourne against him, and I discovered there truly was nothing left of Arthas in him." Jaina raised her mug to her lips and took a long sip. "He also almost killed both of us; he was that powerful. Sylvanas ran off after him in her blind fury, and I chased after her. Arthas would have been successful if the champions with us didn't defeat Arthas' lieutenants in time. We parted ways afterwards, and I didn't see her again until the final assault."

Jaina fell quiet, and it left Sylvia sitting there processing what was spoken. It didn't give her a perfect idea about Sylvanas Windrunner, of course, but she saw traits in the Banshee Queen that were clearly shared with her. She could fill in the blanks herself. Sylvia exhaled slowly before taking the time to wrap Jaina in a blanket and kiss her on the cheek.

"That was a brave thing you did. Facing Arthas like that," Sylvia murmured as she brushed Jaina's hair. "I think I understand why you are hesitant to be around Arthur."

"I'm afraid that I'll make the same mistake I did with Arthas I told Arthas that I would never deny him anything, then, when he needed me the most—"

"He would have killed you too, if you had stayed with him. He would have poisoned you the same way Arthur poisoned Jane. You were smart enough to wake up and do what was right, and look at all the people you saved!"

Jaina wanted to shoot back that it didn't matter. That all of her people were dead because of Garrosh and his mana bomb. Instead, she picked up Jane's journal and opened to the drawn image of the Ranger-General. "This is you— was you, before Arthas killed you and raised you as a banshee."

Sylvia took the book and inspected the picture. Jane never saw herself as much of a visual artist, but she had skill that many wished they had. Sylvia stared at the image for a long while before she turned the page and saw an art-style that was strictly Tanner's. "Is this you?" she asked as she looked at the woman dressed in blue, gold, and white. Jaina rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Tanner's idea of me as a sailor mage."

"Because you are a sailor mage."

"One can argue that," Jaina replied coyly. Sylvia simply smiled as she set the notebook back down. "I could have been a tidesage instead, since I'm tied so tightly to the sea, but my mother wanted me to go to Dalaran instead."

"And that's when you met Arthas." Jaina nodded. "Did you ever meet Sylvanas? Before she died, I mean."

"No, but I was a love interest of Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, who happened to be her prince. He blamed me for what Arthas did to his people."

Sylvia thought for a moment. "I think, when you write your story, maybe change out Kael'thas for Sylvanas. Add a little bit more drama before her death. Maybe, just maybe, it will make your reunion with the Banshee Queen a little bit more interesting."

Jaina laughed. "I see what you're doing! You want me to rewrite my story so you become my love interest after Arthas!" she accused playfully, Sylvia who simply shrugged.

"Or maybe, it would let you speculate how your world would have been if Sylvanas came to you instead of going to the Horde when looking for a home."

Jaina sobered immediately, eyes going wide as her mind raced. How different would the world have been if the Forsaken had come to Theramore? Would she and Sylvanas have shared a similar relationship to one she currently has with Sylvia?

"I… need to think about it."


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> retconned jaina and sylvanas not knowing each other in the last chapter :)

Though her rut had long since died down, a sense of possessiveness still boiled deep in Sylvanas’s stomach, urging her to claim the other woman’s lips with her own, to show those who’d gathered to meet her just who she belonged to. She pursed her lips and willed away the image of how Proudmoore might react— pretty eyes bulging out of her head until she let them flutter closed and leaned into the kiss— instead crossing her arms and jutting her hips to the side. The mage gaped at her like a fish out of water, unable to form words, as Sylvanas turned back to the archmage, who watched her with narrow eyes. “I’m sure you’d be willing to offer me lodging in your esteemed hold while we discuss our these new arrangements with the rest of the council, would you not, archmage? I may not sleep, but I do enjoy a comfortable bed, same as anyone else, in a place not riddled with bedbugs and potential assassins.”

Khadgar pursed his lips for a moment. “Did you not bring any guards, Lady Windrunner?”

“I sent them ahead to Orgrimmar. The warchief has been quite fussy, as of late, about my whereabouts,” she stated idly, checking her worn-down fingernails as though the conversation bored her. “I didn’t have a chance to tell him in person.”

The old mage could easily see through her white lie, but, thankfully, let it go. “I would be happy to oblige, my lady. I’m sure we can find space for you in the west wing.”

Sylvanas nodded idly, her gaze boring into the others that had gathered— she obviously recognized the former warchief, who she greeted with a simple nod after receiving one in return, and had heard descriptions of the dragon Kalecgos, but the blonde one…

“Prince Wrynn,” she purred, giving the boy a once over. The prince in question stood nervously at attention when she said his name, unable to look her in the eye, instead opting to stare straight forward. “What a pleasant surprise. I had heard your father’s leash had loosened somewhat, but I hadn’t expected to find you in Dalaran, of all places.”

“I— ah… I, um, he, uh…”

Her eyes roamed over to the boy next to her, whose dark brown eyes glared daggers at her and half stepped in front of the little prince, as though to protect him. Cute. “And you made a friend! Won’t your father be proud?”

“ _ Sylvanas _ ,” Thrall growled, crossing his arms. “Stop teasing the boys. They have no time for your games— besides, Wrathion, Anduin, you two should be sleeping to prepare for tomorrow’s ritual.”

Wrathion. What an odd name for a human boy. But there was something else that interested her more… “Ritual? What sort of ritual?”

“It’s none of your business,” the little cub blustered, trying to match his friend’s glare.

“Actually, your highness, that was the reason I called Lady Jaina here,” Khadgar finally spoke up. “I was hoping to ask your permission to allow Lady Sylvanas into the ritual. The more people we have who were connected to… to  _ you _ , the better the ritual will go.”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow— a ritual, involving the great Jaina Proudmoore? Suffice it to say that her curiosity was piqued. And certainly not because a part of her felt she needed to protect the mage if something just so happened to go wrong.

“”R- right…” The woman swallowed, chancing a glance at her for just a moment. “If… if you think it best, then I’ll refer to your judgment.”

Khadgar nodded, then clapped his hand together. “Right then. We’ll be doing it noon tomorrow, on the dot. Don’t leave the premises if you can help it; I’ll be sending for you all when the preparations are finished. Master Wrathion, Master Kalec, I’ll be needing you bright and early, if that’s alright.”

After that, the conversation disbanded, each person going their separate ways. Despite not knowing where her quarters were exactly, Sylvanas felt compelled to follow after Jaina, who was being led away by Thrall with a gentle hand on her back. She watched her as she walked away, willing her to look back, but she never did.

“I know that look,” Khadgar chuckled, an all-knowing smirk on his face. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

Sylvanas wanted to level a glare at him and snarl, but she found herself sighing as she said, “That’s what they tell me. I hardly know the woman, though.”

The old man nodded. “Young love is like that.”

“What do you know of young love, old man?” she sneered, glancing towards him. There was a distant look on his face, as though he were lost in thought. “You came out of your mother a crotchety old coot.”

He at least had the decency to chuckle at her barb, though. “A long time ago, believe it or not. I know what it’s like to love someone and not be loved in return.”

_ Not be loved in return.  _ The thought sent a chill through her.

Though afraid to know the answer, she forced her lips to move. “And what did you do? When you found out they did not love you?”

Khadgar gave her a forlorn smile. “He could not love me back, I think, not the way I wanted him to. Not after he lost his wife, his child— everything that was important to him. But I continued to love him, to show him there was still good in the world. And I love him to this day.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?” she found herself asking, desperation creeping into her voice. “Doesn’t it kill you to know he loved another, but could not love you.”

“It does,” the old man acquiesced, eyes fluttering close and smile widening. “But I think about how happy he made me, how he made me into the man I am today, and that makes it all okay.”

With that on her mind, Sylvanas allowed the archmage to call forth a servant to lead her to her room for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a bitch for liontrust after watching the movie dont look at me  
> remember to comment!

**Author's Note:**

> fatjainaproudmoore.tumblr.com if you wanna talk about the story! 
> 
> Remember to comment, your comments inspire me.
> 
> official playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/27DwHZ7efQR9yWNK2308pg?si=ynQMTFwkTh6vi7YJY6i_3Q


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